除夕之夜,一家三口静静地坐在餐桌旁,满上一杯酒,品着七碟八盘的小菜,边吃着饺子,边欣赏电视里的春节晚会。但细细地咀嚼品味,总觉得少了些儿时对过年的祈盼,也没有了儿时过年的喜庆和欢快。我更加怀念儿时的“年”了。儿时的冬天特别冷,呼出的呵气瞬间成霜,地都冻裂了。一年辛勤劳作的庄稼人在冬季短暂的休闲之后,一进入腊月便里里外外地忙了起来。母亲开始拆拆洗洗,缝缝补补,父亲则皱起眉头, New Year’s Eve, a family of three sitting quietly at the table, full of a glass of wine, with seven dishes eight dishes, while eating dumplings, enjoy the television in the Spring Festival Gala. However, chewing taste delicately, always feel less praying for the New Year when children, nor the festivities and happy New Year children. I miss even more childhood “year”. Childhood winter is particularly cold, exhaled air instant into a frost, the ground is frozen. After a brief winter leisure, the farmer, who worked hard for a year, was busy entering and leaving the twelfth lunar month. My mother began to demolish and wash, make up seams, his father frowned,