——故乡,就是想回,却永远回不去的地方。姐姐出嫁时,正是春天。走在姐姐前面的,是几个挑着丰厚嫁妆的劳动力,箱子,柜子,盆子,被子,上面都张贴着大红色的喜字。姐姐的嫁衣,是她去几十里路远的汤沟街上选的布料做的,藏青色的哔叽裤子,白底子上起着粉色花朵的上衣。姐姐是被两个和她交好的姑娘搀扶着走出家门的,她一步三回头地看着站在门口的母亲,眼眶里储满了泪水。太阳挂在西天,姐姐一直朝西走,漫天的彩霞泼在姐姐身上,美得如同一幅画。穿过一片菜地,是一条溪流,清澈见底,长得无边无 - Hometown, is to want to go back, but never go back to the place. When my sister is married, it is spring. Walking in front of my sister is a number of labor force hiring a generous dowry, boxes, cabinets, pots, quilts, all posted above the big red hi word. The sister’s wedding dress, she did a few tens of miles away from the ditch ditch on the street to choose the fabric to do, navy blue sergeant trousers, white flowers on the pink shirt. Sister was helped out of her house by two girls who had been with her. She looked back and forth at the mother standing in the doorway, full of tears in her eyes. The sun hung in the West, my sister has been heading west, the sky Caixia splash on her sister, the United States as a painting. Through a piece of vegetable land, is a stream, crystal clear, looks boundless