下雪的日子里,一个早已消失的村子,一个早已逝去的老人,总会从我的记忆深处缓缓走来,浮现在我的眼前。那年,我们一家六口蜗居在抚州文昌桥西一个叫桥脚下的贫民窟里。那时,父亲没有工作,在街上拉板车。母亲在桥头摆地摊,卖些铁制农具。由于长期的营养不良,我和弟弟的个头都很矮,又黑又瘦,就像花圃里开败了的孱弱的花朵。那年,弟弟6岁,我8岁。那时学校不兴素质教育,放学很早。我和弟弟常到建筑工地去敲 In a snowy day, an old village that has disappeared, an old man who has already died, always comes slowly from the depths of my memory and emerges in front of me. That year, our family of six dwelling in the Fuzhou Wenchang Qiaoxi a called slum at the foot of the slums. At that time, my father did not work and pulled a trolley in the street. The mother put a stall in the bridge, selling iron tools. Due to chronic malnutrition, both my brother and I are short, dark and thin, like weaker flowers that have been defeated in flowerbeds. That year, my brother was 6 years old and I was 8 years old. At that time, the school did not develop quality education and dropped out early. My brother and I often go to the construction site to knock