“理想”是个藏着神圣光芒的词,悬挂在头顶,照耀我们的每一次前行,它又像一颗小小的鹅卵石,被我们紧紧握在掌心,直至变得油亮、光滑。即使它最后并没有跟随我们成长的步伐长大,却也不会被岁月带走。它会记得我们掌心的温度,就像我们记得它一样。我曾经有个理想,做一名图书管理员。“为什么呀?”我希望有人这样反问,那样我就可以骄傲地解释缘由。可是没人问我。几乎所有人都沉浸在窃笑之中。这是因为在我之前,有个男生说他的理想是做一个屠夫,于是全班50多双目光一齐射向他,随之是声震寰宇的大笑。我有些失落地坐下。我不知道为什么一个天天想吃肉的理想比一个天天想看书的理想要受关注得多。我觉得我的理想虽然不高大,可是美而温暖, “Ideal ” is a hidden word of sacred light, hanging overhead, shining on our every move, it is like a little pebbles, we are firmly in the palm, until it becomes shiny and smooth. Even if it does not eventually grow in pace with our growth, it will not be taken away by the years. It will remember the temperature of our palm, just as we remember it. I used to have the ideal to be a librarian. “Why??” I hope someone so ask, so I can proudly explain the reason. But nobody asked me. Almost everyone is immersed in a chuckle. This is because before me, a boy said his ideal was to be a butcher, so the whole class fired at him with more than 50 pairs of eyes, followed by the sound of one-way laughter. I am sedentary in some loss. I do not know why the ideal of eating meat every day is much more concerned than the ideal of reading every day. I think my ideal though not tall, but the United States and warm,