母亲已经七十多岁了,她实在是太瘦了,瘦得我简直不忍心看她一眼。每次我去她那儿,一旦我的目光碰到了她瘦骨嶙峋的蜡黄的脸庞,枯枝似的手臂,我就立即会把目光“闪”开。她的手臂只有五六岁儿童一样粗细啊,我的心在隐隐作痛,我真不敢再往下想了。在我的记忆里,我是在想不起明确的时间,母亲究竟是从什么时间开始变成了现在这幅模样。 Her mother is seventy years old, she is too thin, thin I just could not bear to look at her. Every time I went to her, my eyes immediately blinked as soon as my eyes met her skinny waxy face and dead branches. Her arms are only as thick as children aged five or six, my heart is aching, I really can not think down. In my memory, I can not remember the definite time, from what time the mother became the present appearance.