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这个被寒风吹得瑟瑟发抖的城市,在立春不久后迎来了一缕久违的暖阳。阳光洒在脸上,我惬意地伸了个懒腰,看着树上刚冒出稀疏的新芽与常青的叶子相映投下斑驳的影子,让我想起了那条路。那是家门前的一条小路,一边是小山堆的护栏,另一边是一堵墙。路不宽,没有什么车从那儿经过,虽不繁华,却是我那时最爱的去处。隐约间还记得那是夏季的晚上,儿时的我学着爷爷的样子,一双小手捏着大大的蒲扇,提着矮矮的板凳,兴冲冲地跑到那条路上,看看路旁的破屋,似乎也成风景。小破屋中闪着点点荧光,我心中好奇,放下一切去捉那些闪闪发光的萤火虫,踉踉跄跄地总是摔倒。爷爷笑着鼓励我不哭,自己爬起来,然后一手领着我,一手拿着蒲扇,带我走过那条路回家。
The city, shivering by the cold wind, ushered in a long-lost warm sun shortly after the spring. Sunshine sprinkled on the face, I comfortably stretched out, watching the trees just sprouting sprouting sprouting leaves and speckled contrast, always reminds me of the road. It was a trail in front of the house, with a fence on the hill and a wall on the other. The road is not wide, no car from there, though not downtown, but it was my favorite place to go. Vaguely remember that it was the summer night, I learned the grandfather’s childhood, a pair of small hands holding a big palm-leaf fan, carrying a short bench, excitedly went to that road, take a look at the roadside broken The house seems to be a landscape. Little broken house flashing a little fluorescent, my curiosity, put everything to catch those glittering fireflies, staggering always fall. My grandfather smiled and encouraged me not to cry. I climbed up and led me in one hand and took the palm-leaf fan in one hand and took me through the road to go home.