外婆刻满皱纹的手,曾织出过这么多的毛衣。“摇啊摇,摇到外婆桥……”我躺在外婆的怀里,摸着冻得冰冰凉的小鼻子,好奇地看着毛线在竹针里自如穿梭。那时,我还是个小不点,我问外婆:“毛衣怎么还不出来呀?”“傻孩子,马上就出来啦!”外婆笑呵呵地回答道。在我的记忆中,她一直是这样,从未变过。我还清楚地记得我拿到的第一件毛衣:绿色,衣身布满菱形的格子。我欣喜若狂,每当贴身穿着,就不肯再穿外套,生怕别人看不到我身上 Grandmother wrinkled hands, had woven so many sweaters. “Shake and shake, shake to Grandma Bridge ... ” I lie in my grandmother’s arms, touched the frozen cold ice nose, curiously watched the wool in the bamboo needle freely shuttle. At that time, I was still a little bit, I asked the grandmother: “sweater how not yet come out? ” “Silly boy, immediately came out! ” Grandmother replied with a smile. In my memory, she has always been this way, never changed. I also clearly remember the first sweater I got: a green, lingerie-covered lattice. I am ecstatic, whenever personal wear, refused to wear a coat, for fear that other people can not see me