“我这一辈子都叫大山圈着……”无数次,母亲略带伤感地说。在她的意念里,大山是个圈。小时候,姥姥是圆心,她是半径。她十二三岁就一个人赶着花面毛驴,走几十里山路给她的姥姥送煤。她穿着自己织的布、自己缝制的印染着白蝴蝶的衣服,留着月牙头,走在弯弯曲曲的山路上,走过一沟一梁,走过美丽的桃树坡,一切都成 “All my life called the mountain circle ... ” countless times, his mother said slightly sad. In her mind, the mountain is a circle. As a child, grandma is the center, she is the radius. She was a teenager at the age of one to catch a face donkey, dozens of miles to go to her grandmother to send coal. She wears her woven cloth, her own sewed white butterflies, her crescent-shaped head, walking on a winding mountain road, passing through a ditch and a beam, walking through the beautiful peach slope, everything is completed