童年,我在故乡坐过一回航船。岁月匆匆,几十个春秋过去了,坐航船的那情那景,时常沉入我的梦乡。拨动着那根思乡的琴弦,奏出一串串激越而深沉的音符……那年,我十二岁,刚刚小学毕业,父亲带我去县城找工作。那天早晨,父亲搀着我踩着一条宽厚的跳板,走上了一艘木航船。记忆中的航船,船篷很特别地刷成长长一排白色,看上去灰秃秃的。船篷下黑黝黝的,使人想起山洞和妖怪。我痴痴望着船舷两边悠悠荡去青砖白墙的村庄,青翠的树木,绿色的田野……船梢上的戴毡帽的老头,一边吆喝一边推移那些船篷,篷是半圆形的,像一把弯弓。他们把几张叠架在一起。那船舱的宽度,恰好躺下一个人。进舱的旅客都要弯腰而入,规规矩矩脱下鞋子放在铺板一角,然后歪下身子, Childhood, I sat in a boat back home. Years of hurries, dozens of spring and autumn passed, the scenery of that boat, often sink into my dreams. That struck the string of homesickness, playing a string of more intense and deep notes ...... That year, I was 12 years old, just graduated from primary school, my father took me to the county to find a job. That morning, my father helped me stepping on a generous springboard, embarked on a wooden boat. Remembrance of the ship, the canopy is particularly long brush to grow a row of white, looks unobtrusive. Dark under the canopy, reminiscent of caves and monsters. I am jerking at both sides of the shipwreck overlooking the blue and white walls of the village, green trees, green fields ... ... Feather-capped old man on the boat, while shouting while pushing those boat awnings, the canopy is semicircular, Like a bow. They put a few stacks together. That cabin width, just lie down one person. Passengers into the cabin have to bend over, polite take off shoes on the plank corner, and crooked body,