百合花开了。百合花一开,夏天就到了。很长一段时间里,我都没有把写作的事和陈老师联系起来,我也似乎刻意不去记起陈老师已走远了的事。但只有我自己知道,每当我的指间敲下一行行文字时,我都会情不自禁地想起她——我的陈老师。且把记忆之门推回我的小学时代。我的小学时代是在乡下度过的。学校就坐落在一个有着五六百 Lily flowers opened. Lily opened, summer is up. For a long time, I did not associate the writing with Professor Chen, and I also seemed to deliberately not remember what happened to Professor Chen. But only myself knew that whenever I typed a word down my finger, I could not help thinking of her, my teacher Chen. And push the door of memory back to my elementary school. My elementary school was spent in the country. The school is located in a five or six hundred