记忆中，母亲的头发乌黑发亮，或梳成一条长长的辫子，优美地飘动在她的腰际；或盘成一个漂亮的发署，高雅地梳在脑后，露出光洁圆润的额头。随着岁月流逝，鸟丝已变成了银发。母亲的黑发哪里去了？定是她挤出了里面的墨汁，留给了风霜雪雨的四季，留给了年轮永恒的回忆，写成 Memory, the mother’s hair black shiny, or combed into a long braid, beautifully flapping in her waist; or plate into a beautiful hair, elegantly combing behind my head, exposing a smooth rounded forehead. As time goes by, bird’s eye has become silver hair. Where’s the mother’s dark hair? It is she out of the ink inside, leaving the four seasons wind and snow, leaving the eternal memories of the annual rings, written