竹椅有些年头了,那两把竹椅,在老家堂前一小片斜照里泛着油红的光,静默安然,看起来就像是一对在尘世里过了半生的夫妻——不,是母女。是的,那是一对母女椅,在我六岁的时候,它们经由一个扳匠的手进入人间,来到我和母亲的生活里。我的母亲是一个乡村教师,皖南多山,大大小小的村子散落在山的褶缝和凹处,仿佛丛林里任意生长的蘑菇,一条山路盘山绕水串联着村子,除了天空旋飞的山鹰,没有人能看到路的尽头。母亲就在这样的村子里教着 Bamboo chairs for some years, and that two bamboo chairs, in front of the home front of a small piece of pan in the glowing red light, quiet and safe, looks like a pair of half-life in the world where the couple - no, yes Mother and daughter. Yes, it was a pair of mother and daughter chairs. When I was six, they entered the world through the hand of a janitor and came to me and my mother’s life. My mother is a village teacher. The mountains in southern Anhui, large and small villages scattered in the mountain fold and depression, as if the growth of mushrooms in the jungle, a mountain winding winding water in tandem with the village, in addition to the sky whirling mountain Eagle, no one can see the end of the road. The mother taught in such a village