阳春三月,我回到故乡,又看见了久违的老屋。老屋坐北朝南,门前一棵高大的枣树,屋后的土坡上是几丛粗粗细细的翠竹,旁边搭个丝瓜架,墙根上片片青苔似乎无声地诉说着岁月的沧桑。爷爷奶奶去世早,父亲与二叔外出谋生,老屋里只有三叔一个人孤独地打发时光。在我幼年的记忆里,三叔夏天白布小褂黑长裤,冬天大棉袄,还用长布带束腰,手上有永远洗不干净的泥,说话细声细语,喜欢哼几句家乡的小曲。 Spring March, I went back to my hometown and saw a long absence old house. Old house to sit on the south, a tall jujube in front of the house after the slope is a few thick tufts of bamboo, next to take a loofah rack, moss on the wall root piece seems silent to tell the vicissitudes of years . Grandparents died early, his father and second uncle go out to make a living, only three uncle in the old house alone to pass the time. In my childhood memories, Uncle summer white cloth small black trousers, winter jacket, but also with long cloth waistband, the hands are always dirty unclean mud, whisper words, like to hum a few hometown Little song.