一直以来,“死亡”、“衰老”这些念头就如阴霾一般笼罩在我的头上。我千方百计回避这个话题。然而,此刻,我在探望最近困卧老人院的母亲,再也难以逃避了。在这里,死神在我耳边嘶嘶鸣响——便盆的叮当声,轮椅的刺耳吱嘎声,还有那些紧张兮兮的饭友们没完没了的嗡嗡声。那些老人面带稚气、眼神空洞,疲倦的身躯在碟碟盆盆前像窗帘一样垂着,在他们中间,我母亲与我相对而坐。她瞄了一眼我带来的橘子,向我点头表示满意。 All along, “death ”, “aging ” these thoughts are like a haze shrouded in my head. I try my best to avoid this topic. However, at this very moment, I am having a hard time trying to visit the mother who has recently been sleeping in a nursing home. Here death squeals in my ear - the potty clinking, the piercing noise of wheelchairs, and the endless buzz of nervous cooks. The old men were childlike, hollow-eyed, and tired bodies drooped like curtains in front of the dishpan. Between them, my mother sat opposite me. She glanced at the oranges I brought and nodded at me with satisfaction.