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人到中年,总有些恋旧。记忆中,祖籍山东,父辈在上个世纪六十年代闯关东,成为一名林场工人,我也成为土生土长的山里人,童年的事仿佛就在昨天,自己动手做的小爬犁、上山割草用作家里烧火、采野菜、顿顿吃不够的大饼子咸菜、还有那久久回荡在耳边的伐木的劳动号子。弹指一挥间,渐行渐远,岁月的洪流,带走了青春年华,余下的回忆都是被深深的镌刻在生命里。在这钢筋水泥铸就的城市里生活的越久越怀念儿时的画面,曾经那土地辽阔、天空湛蓝、被大雪覆盖的山
Middle-aged people, always some old love. Memory, the ancestral home of Shandong, my father in the 1960s broke through the Kanto, a forest farm workers, I also become a native of mountain people, childhood seems to be just yesterday, do it yourself small sledge, mowing the mountain home In the fire, wild herbs, Dun Dun eat not enough pie pancake pickles, as well as that long time echoed in the ears of the logger labor numbers. Flickering, drifting away, years of torrent, took away the youth, the rest of the memories are deeply engraved in life. In this cast-in-the-city city live longer and more miss the pictures of childhood, once the vast land, sky blue, snow-capped mountains