不愿回故乡,不喜那回乡途中的不适感,不适那浓烈的乡土气息——上一次回老家还是初三那年的初夏。坐上城乡巴士,颠簸了一路,再转一个大弯,那花、那墙、那个老村庄就立在了前头。走在乡间,记忆中的小路已升格为水泥路,两旁的土坯房早被二层小洋楼取代,虽是城市化的村庄,但总是让心不踏实。好在,老宅还是老样子。长年不住人,经年不修整,使它透露着几分凄凉。记忆中的朱红大门斑驳零乱,锁扣 Do not want to go back home, do not like that on the way back to the discomfort, discomfort that strong local flavor - the last time back home or early summer of that year. Sitting on the bus in urban and rural areas, bump all the way, then turn a big bend, that flower, that wall, the old village on the front. Walk in the country, the memory of the road has been upgraded to cement road, both sides of the adolescent houses have long been replaced by a two-story small ocean floor, although the urbanization of the village, but always let the heart does not down. Fortunately, the old house is still the same. For many years no one, after years do not trim, it revealed a bit desolate. Vermilion door in memory of the mottled mess, lock