一我们这里的回族把姑奶叫姑妈,有着不可言说的亲切。太爷住在山这边,姑妈住在山那边。从山的豁口向下,有一段长长的上坡路,姑妈用小脚在这条路上走了一辈子。听到狗叫声,九十多岁的太爷就异常灵醒地睁开眼睛,盯着大门看,一面气喘嘘嘘地喊着新太奶去开门。新太奶迈着小脚,细碎的脚印从上房一直延续到大门口。新太奶吃力地把顶门的杠子拿开,吃力地拉开门扇,大门吱吱作响,姑妈就像圣诞老人一样站 A Hui here we call aunts aunt, with unspeakable cordial. Lord lived in the mountains here, my aunt live in the mountains over there. From the gap of the mountain down, there is a long uphill, aunt with a small foot in this road for a lifetime. When I heard the barking of a dog, the man in his late twenties opened his eyes abnormally and wistfully, staring at the door and shouting at the new milk too openly to open the door. New too milk marched feet, broken footprints from the room continued to the gate. New too milk to get the top door of the lever away, struggling to open the door, the door creaking, aunt like Santa Claus