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搬家的时候,老爸每运完一箱衣服,就得在床沿上坐一下,一言不发地歇。老妈有远视了,细小的东西,她得拿远点,挤着眼看,小扣子,小绳头,都攒着,慢条细理地装进一个素净的小布袋里。都老了……我叉着腰站在屋中央,悲从中来:青春,终究敌不过生活的,戏要散场,照片要褪色,时间的洪流……怎么回事?我面对着两摞一模一样的《简明日本语教程》,水蓝色的封面微微打卷儿,我激动得有些颤巍巍地打开扉页,老爸老妈一粗犷一娟秀的署名清晰可辨。我捧着书,奔进屋里亮给他们看。我能看见他们的眸子“咯噔”一下,那是回忆之门打开的声音。
When moving, Dad shipped a box of clothes, you have to sit on the bed along without a word to rest. Mom has hyperopia, small things, she had to take a little further, crowded, small buttons, small rope, are saved, slowly and carefully packed into a plain bag. Are old ... I am standing in the middle of the house with a fork, sad from: youth, after all, the enemy of life, the play to the end, the photo to fade, the torrent of time ... how else? I face the same pile of two Concise Japanese tutorial “, the aqua-blue cover slightly curled up, I was excited to some trembling open the title page, Mom and Dad a rough outline of a signed show clearly. I held the book, ran into the house bright to them. I can see their eyes ”slightly" look, it is the voice of the door of memories.