第一次见到你,我十一岁。窗外稀疏的阳光像一层亮釉涂在雪地上,我穿梭在弥漫着药水气息的走廊,推开那扇半掩的门,我看见了你。你安静地躺在小木床里,妈妈亲切地给你哼着童谣。我有些木然,爸爸拍拍我的头,说:“灵,这是你世界上最亲的人。”你九个月时开始断奶,我正好放暑假。父母把我俩送到乡下爷爷奶奶家。我开始了长达两个月的照顾你的生涯。我背着你在村里散步,碰见一位大妈,她半真半假地说:“哈哈,有了弟弟,爸妈就不疼你了吧?”我笑笑,摇摇头,背着你绕开那条路,循着黄昏的日 The first time I saw you, I was eleven. Sparse sunlight outside the window is like a layer of bright glaze on the snow, I shuttle in the corridor filled with syrup breath, pushed open the half-covered door, I saw you. You lie quietly in a wooden bed, mom kindly give you a humming nursery rhyme. I’m a bit naive, my father patted my head and said: “Spirit, this is your most pro-people in the world.” “You started weaning nine months, I was just for summer vacation. Parents sent us to the country grandparents home. I started as a two-month caregiver for your career. I am carrying your walk in the village, met an aunt, she said half-truths: ”Haha, with a younger brother, my parents hurt you? " I smiled and shook my head, carrying you Go around that road and follow the twilight days