北风咆哮,日历撕到了最后一张,又站在一年的尾巴上了,年关了,去帮帮外婆吧,我走出了家门。单车飞驰在去往外婆家的马路上,北风肆意地吹刮着路旁的老树,枝头仅有的枯叶再也把持不住,掉在车前的筐千里。我的记忆中,看到了桥,就像是见到了外婆,村口的那座石桥,趴在外婆家门前,一直没有动过,上上下下的台阶就成了儿时的乐园。记得孩童时,总喜欢被外婆牵着手在桥 North wind roar, the calendar tear to the last one, and stood on the tail of the year, the year off, to help my grandmother, I walked out of the house. Bicycle speeding to the grandma’s road to the north wind wanton blow to the roadside old trees, branches only dead leaves no longer hold, fell in front of the basket thousands of miles. My memory, saw the bridge, just like to see the grandmother, the stone bridge in the village mouth, lying in front of Grandma’s house, has not touched, the upper and lower steps became a paradise for childhood. Remember children, always like to be grandmother holding hands in the bridge