我奶奶去世了。相隔两年,我外婆也去世了。我奶奶去世时九十五岁,我外婆去世时九十二岁。从此,我们螺山镇的大士街上,再也没有这两位小脚老太的身影,并且,永远也没有那代表一个时代的小脚了。外婆家和我们家只隔着一条流水沟,相距五十米左右,水沟上铺着不知哪个年代的石碑,成为一座小桥。外婆和奶奶,这对老亲家,通过这小桥,不是你到我家来就是我到你家去。这小桥,见证了这对老亲家的几十年风雨阳光的平凡生活。 My grandmother passed away. Two years later, my grandmother also died. My grandma died at the age of ninety-five, and my grandmother died at the age of ninety-two. From then on, we do not have these two little ladies in our town on Tuas Street, and never have the little feet that represent one era. Grandmother and our family only across a gutter, about 50 meters apart, ditch I do not know what era of stone, become a small bridge. Grandmother and grandmother, this old family, through this bridge, not you come to my house is that I go to your house. This bridge, witnessed the ordinary life of decades of wind and sunshine of the old relatives.