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我常常很想画一幅《手》。那是一双干瘦而温暖的手,诠释着一个生命的意义,让我心酸,让我怀念。这双手,就是曾祖母的手。曾祖母去世已经两年了,但她那双干瘦的手仍然一直温暖着我的心。两年前,瘫痪的曾祖母每天只能待在黑屋子里,见不到阳光。她甚至渐渐模糊了白天、黑夜这两个概念。每次回家,曾祖母都拍拍床,让我坐在她身边说说话,拉着我的手久久不放。曾祖母的视力越来越差了,她只能捏捏我的手腕感觉一下,然后笑呵呵地说:“小华,又吃胖了?”我老是为
I often want to draw a “hand.” It is a pair of thin and warm hands, interpretation of the meaning of a life, let me sad, let me miss. This hands, that is, great-grandmother’s hand. My great-grandmother’s death for two years, but her skinny hand still warm my heart. Two years ago, the paralyzed great-grandmother could only stay in the dark room every day and could not see the sunshine. She even gradually blurred the two concepts of day and night. Every time I go home, my great-grandmother pats the bed and lets me sit by her side and talk and hold my hand for a long time. Great-grandmother’s vision is getting worse, she can only squeeze my wrists feel, and then chuckled: Xiaohua, and eat fat?