一在那之前,我还是个懵懂无知的孩子,像窗前那些迟开的香豌豆,在春天的风里,眉目轻掩着,美在深睡。清晨,我骑着爸爸那辆叮当乱响的破自行车穿过小巷,人们一听到这咣当、咣当的声音,就知道我去上学了。拐弯处,是一个缓坡,每次骑到这里,总会让旁边院子里的阿婆揪起心来,她会忍不住隔墙喊上一声:“丫头,慢点儿骑!”话 Before that, I was still ignorant child, like late blooming sweet peas in front of the window, in the spring wind, her eyes covered slightly, the United States was deep sleep. Early in the morning, I rode my father’s clutter of tinkering broken bicycles through the alley, people heard this stern, croaking voice, I know I go to school. Turn around, is a gentle slope, each ride here, always let the lady in the yard next to pull the heart, she could not help but shouted at the wall: “girl, ride slower! ”