曾经,庭院离我们很近:低矮的院墙,院子里有棵洋槐或泡桐树,房前的空地上种点夹竹桃,穿过木栅栏可以看到门外的胡同或远方的田野。从什么时候开始,我们开始渐渐远离庭院,不,不是远离,而是永失。5岁的时候,因为地震,姥姥决定把我送回父母身边。我的哭闹没能扭转姥姥的决心,绝望的我蹲在院子里,抽噎着用手指抠泥土,一直到两腿发麻。那只被我用土堤圈住的蚂蚁试着从不同的方向突围,都 Once upon a time, the courtyard was very close to us: a low courtyard wall with acacia or paulownia trees in the yard. The oleander was planted in the open space in front of the house. Through the wooden fence, you could see the alley outside or the fields beyond. When did we begin to gradually get away from the courtyard, no, not far away, but forever. 5 years old, because of the earthquake, my grandmother decided to send me back to my parents. My cry did not reverse my grandmother’s determination, desperation I squatted in the yard, pumping 噎 用 fingers dig the soil, until the legs numb. The ants that I was surrounded by embankments tried to break through in different directions