那是1953年的冬天。正下着大雪,我跟着二叔走进北京西城区跨车胡同5号的一个小四合院,在一个老看门人的引领下,来到坐北朝南的正房,怯生生地站到了一位白胡子老人面前。不用问,这就是曾祖父了!年已94岁的曾祖父,头上裹着一块黑布,半张着嘴,正坐在沙发上闭目养神。听到动静了,他才微微地睁开眼睛,问我:“你是谁家的崽?”“我是次生的崽。”第一次见这么老的曾祖父,我回答时心里有点紧张。“次生?”曾祖父两眼蓦然张大了,放出亮晶晶的光来,又问,“我们家那些梨树、桃树还在不在呀?”“在!”我实话实说。那些树都是曾祖父当年亲 That was the winter of 1953. Under the heavy snow, I followed the Uncle into a small courtyard at No. 5 across the alley in Xicheng District, Beijing. Under the guidance of an old janitor, I came to sit in the main building on the south side of the south and timidly stood a white bearded old man before. Needless to say, this is the great-grandfather! The great-grandfather, now 94, with a black cloth in his head and a half-eyed mouth, is sitting on the couch and recuperating. Hearing the movement, he opened his eyes slightly and asked me: “Whose cubs are you?” “I’m a second-born cub.” For the first time I met such a great old grandfather, and when I answered My heart a little nervous. “” Secondary? “His great-grandfather eyes suddenly open, shiny and shine, and asked,” Our family those pears, peaches are still not in it? “” In! "I tell the truth. Those trees are great-grandfather then pro