“来,把手伸过来。”写完作业后,妈妈要给我修剪指甲。她坐到我面前,低着头,捏着指甲刀,轻眯双眼。一双黝黑粗糙的手显得格外灵巧,一个指甲锉被她变成了小提琴的弓弦,在划过我指尖的每一瞬都能摩擦出别样的清脆乐调。她不断地在调整着坐姿,苛刻地让一道美好的弧线缀在我的指间。“呼!”她轻轻吹去指甲缝隙的粉尘。昏黄的灯光暖洋洋的,轻轻地笼罩着我们母女,好像在她的睫毛上开出一朵金黄的花朵,不停地在抖动。妈妈油亮的额头 “Come, put your hand over.” “After finishing my homework, my mommy nailed me nails. She sat in front of me, head down, holding a nail clipper, narrowing his eyes. A pair of dark rough hands appear particularly dexterous, a nail file by her into a bowstring violin, across my fingertips every moment can rub a different kind of crisp music. She is constantly adjusting his posture, harsh a beautiful arc in my fingers. ”Call! " She gently blows the nail gap dust. The dim light warmly and gently over our mother and daughter, as if in her eyelashes out of a golden flower, kept shaking. Mother’s bright forehead