今年的秋天似乎特别短暂,但没有等到冬至,爷爷还是离开了我们。望着阳台上空空的座椅,我脑海中总是在不经意间浮现他坐在那里的场景:悠悠的阳光,瘦瘦的身影,还有望向远方的目光,是我心中最美的画面。我时常会怀念童年的暑假,那些与爷爷在老家的日子。他没有读过书,但可以一遍遍地教我写早逝奶奶的姓名,一笔一画歪歪斜斜,却清晰而有力,就像爷 This autumn seems particularly short-lived, but did not wait until the winter solstice, my grandfather left us. Looking at the empty seats on the balcony, my mind always inadvertently emerge scenes where he sat: long sunshine, thin figure, but also look into the distance, is the most beautiful picture in my heart. I often miss the summer of childhood, those days with my grandfather at home. He did not read the book, but he could teach me over and over again the name of an early-death grandmother, one by one drawing, but clearly and forcefully,