Grandma used to wait for us under the sturdy persimmon tree in front of her house when she came home for the holidays until she saw us around the corner and smiled. And now, when I go home, I can't see grandma's strong body, I can't feel her warm hands to help us warm hands, and I can't smell grandma's light grass fragrance, leaving only desolate. When I went home this autumn, MY grandfather said that all the persimmons were gone. Especially windy night, wake up in the morning to see persimmon fell to the ground, only a few scattered in the tree teetering. Grandma fell down and the persimmon tree turned yellow. That year she was tall as a pine tree, and it was fruitful, and now it has changed...