草帽南墙上依旧挂着我从乡下带回的草帽,十几年了,帽檐已大部分碎落,蒲草的颜色灰白得发旧发陈,让人不忍触及。我站在墙下,品数我曾经游弋过的时光。我的记忆也和这草帽一样吗?忘却的已融入灰尘,而没有忘却的,也在那条向前往复的路上渐渐瘦弱下去——如我现在,不也是被生命倒挂在生活的墙上!玻璃心下午的阳光真干净。妻子拿起扫把,要把书桌上的几块土粒扫下去。午睡才醒的孩子睁大了眼,焦急地叫道:“别动,那是我的土粒儿弟弟呀!”妻子的手僵在了那里。孩子起身,用一个原来装纪念币的铁盒 Straw hat still hanging on the south wall I brought back from the countryside, straw hat, ten years, most of the brim has broken down, Pucao color gray hair too old, people can not bear to touch. I stood under the wall, the number of times I used to cruise. Is my memory the same as the straw hat? The forgotten, dust-filled, unforgettable, gradually ebbs and flows along that path of reciprocation - as I am now, life is not upside down on the wall of life! Glass heart afternoon sun is really clean. Wife picked up the broom, sweeping a few pieces of soil on the desk swept away. Children wake up before sob opened his eyes and cried anxiously: “Do not move, that is my soil child brother ah! ” The wife’s hand froze there. The child got up and used a tin box that used to hold commemorative coins