家乡人形容数大,习惯说,两手挓挲也拨拉不开。父亲去世已二十年,拈指数来,一手一手,一手一轮回,感觉就有些茫远,真正是两手挓挲也拨拉不开了。自父亲去世后,我有了自己的孩子,以父亲的身份反思父亲,父亲去世的真相越发迷离起来。我有时想,他还生活在生前的村庄里,最起码,在老树老屋的气息里,还应该有他的声息。可是霜天晓角,微雨暮钟,人在何处?我有时疑惑,他的坟体越来越厚实,坟头草越来越茂密,有人陪着,坟才能逐流年衰老,也许他还在世,还能陪伴着孤坟一起老去。又有时四顾茫然,村庄变了,不再复当年的灰暗,光洁如洗,路畅心阔,哪里能找到他的身影? Hometown to describe a large number of accustomed to saying that both hands and feet are not allowed to pull. My father’s death has been 20 years, and the index has come, one hand and one hand, one hand and one cycle, I feel a little far and wide, really hands and ears are not allowed to pull out. Since the death of my father, I have had my own children, and have re-examined my father as my father. The truth about my father’s death has become even more blurred. I sometimes think he still lives in a village before his death, at the very least, in the atmosphere of old trees, you should also have his voice. But the frosty days, the twilight bells, Where are people? I sometimes puzzled, his grave more and more thick, mounds more and more dense, someone accompanied, the grave to flow by age, maybe he is still alive, Can accompany old lonely grave together. And sometimes confused look around, the village changed, no longer the year of gloomy, clean as clean, smooth way, where to find his presence?