春,终究还是淡漠在纷纷扰扰的红尘里,留下不老的风吹着阴雨绵绵的清明。我和妈妈静静地走在这条可以抵达爸爸的路,时间,或许可以淡化许多伤痛,诸如失去。我小心翼翼地撑着伞,护着手提袋里的信物,就像爸爸当初精心地呵护我一般。妈妈看着地里一大片一大片的油菜籽, Spring, after all, indifferent in the red dust after another disturbing, leaving the old wind blowing rainy Qingming. My mom and I walk quietly in this road to reach my father’s time may be able to play down many pain, such as loss. I carefully holding an umbrella, guarding the bag thing, just like my father had carefully care for me. Mother looked at a large area of ​​a large rapeseed,