提到梦想,三十年前的往事又里历历在目。初秋。清晨。淅沥沥的小雨,泥泞的山路,我与父亲挥手一别,转身泪如雨下,踏上了追梦的路程。肩负着父辈的希望,怀揣美好的梦想,背着重重的行囊……那一年我十四岁。一个来自大山里的孩子,第一次离开父母,第一次坐火车,第一次独自一人去一个离家千里之外的地方。陌生的环境、艰苦的条件、悬殊的成绩、思乡的情感、异地的孤独……我哭过,挣扎过,气馁过……梦想在哪?遥遥无期;希望在哪?黯然神伤 Mentioning the dream, the story of thirty years ago has its own history. Early autumn. early morning. Pathetic rain, muddy mountain road, I waved his father and do not turn to tears, set foot on the dream journey. Shouldering the hope of my parents, carrying a beautiful dream, carrying heavy luggage ...... That year I was 14 years old. A child from the mountains, the first time to leave their parents, the first train, the first time alone to go thousands of miles away from home. Unfamiliar environment, difficult conditions, poor performance, homesick emotions, off-site loneliness ... ... I cried, struggled, discouraged ... ... where the dreams in the foreseeable future, where hope? Dejected