很小的时候,随母亲去过一趟北京城,从此再也忘不了糖炒栗子的甘美。家住的小城不产栗子,集市上偶尔碰到卖栗子的小贩,也都是摊着小指肚大的一堆,色既不正,味也不香。然而,每每过生日,总少不了妈妈炒的糖栗子,一颗颗大个头的栗子是母亲搭公车往两百里外的漯河买来的。我虽每次劝她不要跑那么远买这些无关紧要的东西,但下次的生日餐桌上照例还会有一盆糖炒栗子,固执地溢着芳香。18岁那年,要到国外上学。离家前的十几天,母亲一直忙着准备我那似乎永远也备不齐的行李,连夹头发的小黑卡和大小不等的各色纽扣也被她买回来,塞进本已满满当当的箱子。我只觉得母亲絮絮叨叨地给我增了远行的负担,总是 When I was very young, I went to Beijing with my mother and I could never forget the sweetness of Tangchaolizi. The small town where he lives does not produce chestnuts. Occasionally, the hawkers who sell chestnuts in the bazaar encounter stalls with large pinkies. The colors are neither positive nor fragrant. However, on birthdays, there is always no mother’s fried chestnuts, and the big chestnuts are bought by the mother on the bus to the Luohe, two hundred miles away. Although I persuaded her not to run so far to buy these irrelevant things, but on the next birthday table, there would normally be a pot of chestnuts, stubbornly fragrant. At the age of 18, he went to school abroad. Ten days before leaving home, my mother had been busy preparing my baggage that seemed to be always missing. She even bought a small black card with hair clips and colored buttons of different sizes. She was bought back by her. box. I just think my mother gave me a burden of a long journey.