几乎每一天,只要天光晴好,爷孙俩便像老狗带着小崽儿,忠实地守在街门口。老人身子骨已木僵僵的,跟一截弯曲枯朽的柳树杈似的,刮场大风准能“咔嚓”一声拦腰折断。他习惯性地佝腰驼背,倚着南墙根坐在一摞砖头上。日头最烫火的时节,老人往往自顾垂下眼皮,打着盹儿,一味地昏昏沉沉。墙根下的这堆砖块,还是孩子的妈妈从外面一块一块捡回来的,说是攒多了可以用来修门楼。街门靠右手的一面门扇坏了,去年深秋遇上连天雨,街门楼的一头忽然坍 Almost every day, as long as the sky is clear, both the elders and the children, like old dogs with little cubs, faithfully keep at the gate of the street. The body of the elderly has been stiff wood, with a section of the bent twig willow twigs like, scraping gales potential “Kacha ” sound block down the waist. He humpbacked habitually, sitting on a pile of bricks against the southern wall of the root. The hottest sun on the season, the elderly often take care of eyelids, naps, blindly drowsy. Under the wall of this pile of bricks, or the child’s mother picked up from the outside piece by piece, saying that save more can be used to repair the gatehouse. Street door on the right side of the door is broken, late last year, even with the rain, a sudden collapse of the gatehouse