喜欢喝粥,喜欢喝外公煮的粥。寒冬的每个早晨,那个瘦弱的身影总是笑盈盈地递给我一碗粥。我瘦瘦的冰冷的手摩搓着烫烫的碗,热气腾腾扑向面颊,轻轻地抿一小口,一股暖流势如破竹般沁人心田,顿生暖意。粥很白。晶莹剔透,洁白光亮,好像满满一碗珍珠,光彩照人。白白的粥又好像外公的 Like to eat porridge, like to drink grandfather cooked porridge. Every morning in the cold winter, the thin figure always gave me a bowl of porridge with a smile. My skinny, cold hands rubbed hot hot bowls, rushed toward the cheeks, and gently licked a small sip. A warm current was like a broken heart. The porridge is very white. Crystal clear, bright white, like a bowl full of pearls, shining. White porridge seems to be grandfather’s