那是个明媚的日子,她在我们没有任何心理准备的情况下,就那样坐在了父亲的身旁,坐在了母亲以前常坐的位置上。她是沉静的,看上去很沧桑、很疲倦,她的肤色很暗,脸上有着些许细细的皱纹。她开口说话了,声音粗哑,语言很不修饰,语调生硬,带着浓重的地方口音。我没有听清她说的什么,我的脑海中只是不断地浮现着母亲白皙的皮肤、轻柔的话语、标准的家乡口音,还有那甜润的嗓音。父亲看得透我的心事,他岔开话题,说些 It was a bright day when she sat beside her father in the absence of any mental preparation, sitting in the place where her mother used to sit. She is calm, looks very vicissitudes, very tired, her skin is very dark, his face with a few fine wrinkles. She spoke, the voice was dull, the language was unobtrusive, the tone was hard, with a strong local accent. I did not hear what she said, my mind just continue to emerge the mother’s white skin, soft words, the standard hometown accent, as well as sweet voice. My father looked through my heart, he split topic, say