一父亲在去世的两年前给了我一个小手提箱,里面装的是他的作品、手稿和笔记。这个小小的黑皮箱子我太熟悉了。父亲旅行的时候总是带着它。这个箱子就像是一个老朋友,承载我的童年及过去的记忆。可现在我却不能碰它一下,为什么?当然是因为其中的沉重的内涵。这沉重的内涵,就是一个人把自己关在一个房间里面,坐在桌子面前,完全把自己投入到自己的思想表达中,这正是文学的意义。我摩挲着父亲的箱子,还是不敢打开它,可我却非常了解那些笔记本上记的是什么。我曾经见过父亲往它们上面写东西。这也不是我第一次见到箱子里的东西了。让我无法 A father gave me a small suitcase two years before her death, containing his works, manuscripts and notes. I’m so familiar with this little dark suitcase. My father always carries it when traveling. This box is like an old friend, bearing my childhood and memories of the past. But now I can not touch it, why? Of course, because of the heavy connotation. This heavy connotation is that it is the meaning of literature that a person places himself in a room, sits in front of a table, and completely devotes himself to his own thoughts and expressions. I rub my father’s box, or did not dare to open it, but I know very well what those notebooks. I have seen my father write things to them. This is not the first time I saw the contents of the box. I can not