My grandfather on top of his childhood home in Wanchun #China. He hadn't seen it since the he fled from China as a younger man.
I scaled the tattered stone steps, guiding my grandfather by hand behind me. We had left the cool air of the stone house into the thick heat of spring in southern China. The air swelled with the smell of cows and running water. Melancholic, he stared out at the fields of rice he had played in as a child. "It's so different now," he said as he supported himself against the wall. "...I'll meet you, downstairs" he suggested, still staring at the fields below. I tried to find the perfect words but he looked like he needed some time to himself. As I turn to look up towards him from the steps below he begins to take a piss off the rooftop. #grandad stories.