最初关于吃的记忆,是童年时母亲提着菜篮的身影,从田埂上逆着光,匆匆而来。那时,父亲在一座大城市工作,母亲带着我和姐姐生活在一个鸡犬相闻的小山村。每天,我都会独坐在青石板门槛上,呆呆地守候从田间归来的母亲,从午后一直等到黄昏。于暮色中一见到母亲单薄的身影,年幼的我便迈着不太稳的步履,摇摇晃晃地迎上前,将小手伸进母亲手中的菜篮内,渴望从里面寻到一个青涩的苹果,或是一颗大白 The initial memory of eating was the image of a mother carrying a basket in her childhood, hurriedly coming up from a shy ridge. At that time, my father worked in a big city and my mother took me and my sister to live in a small mountain village where dogs and cats smell. Every day, I will sit alone on the threshold of the Qing Shiban, staring at the mother returned from the field, from the afternoon until the evening. In the twilight, when I saw the thin mother figure, I was young and unsteady walking, walking forward, hand into my mother's basket, eager to find a green inside Astringent apple, or a big white