每次回到故乡,一阵狗吠声过后,老家的院门“吱呀”一声被推开。开门的人不是大哥,就是大嫂。有时,大哥、大嫂下田上山干活去了,门没上锁,我随手推开,便可见到患有中风多年,手脚不灵便,拄着拐杖,摇摇晃晃前来迎接我的母亲。老家的那扇院门分为两页、双合门,用厚实的方木板做成。只要人在家,门就像苏醒的母亲,睁着眼睛。家里无人,门合上,多像闭目养神的母亲。就这样,日复一日,年复一年,门如老去的母亲,夜以继日看守着那院老屋、那个老家。 Every time I return to my hometown, after a bit of barking, my home courtyard “squeak ” was pushed open. Open the door is not a big brother, that is, sister. Sometimes, brother, sister-in-law went down to work in the fields, the door was unlocked, and I pushed it open, we could see a stroke for many years, hands and feet are not flexible, on crutches, rickety to meet my mother. That home courtyard door is divided into two pages, double doors, made of thick square wooden board. As long as people are at home, the door is like a revived mother, eyes open. No one at home, the door closed, more like eyes closed mother. In this way, day after day, year after year, as old as the mother, night guarding the hospital that house, that home.