黄昏下,昏暗的门口,一个瘦弱的身影在夕阳中拉长了。细看去,她的面容慈祥,但又显露出焦急的神情,头发中几根蓬松的银丝格外显眼,在风中左右摇摆着。她,就是我的奶奶。在我的记忆中,奶奶总是喜欢站在家门口,无论是和别人闲谈还是做针线活。可我却不能理解她,甚至讨厌她在门口,因为她站在门口的样子似乎有点傻,但我一直没有说出来,只是在心里不断排斥着她。 Under the dusk, the dim doorway, a thin figure elongated in the sunset. Looked closer, her face kind, but revealing an anxious look, a few fluffy silver hair in the eye was particularly prominent, swaying in the wind. She is my grandmother. In my memory, my grandmother always likes to stand in front of the house, whether chatting or doing needlework. But I can not understand her, or even hate her at the door, because she seems to be standing at the door look a bit silly, but I have not uttered, just in the heart constantly exclusion of her.