那是七月的天,多变得让人无从揣测。一片雨中,一把素雅的伞在雨中伫立着。伞下,撑伞的老人还在翘首等待,银白色的鬓发,千万纵横的皱纹中嵌着一对乌黑的瞳仁在闪闪发亮。雨很静,没有闪电没有雷,一缕缕的连成一片。但,她的目光,那犀利的目光就是电!她痩削的手,那颤巍巍扶着伞的手就是雷!……悄悄在我心中埋下雨的情感,悄悄激起心中的电火浪花,把这些交织成阴霾的天空,罩在我的世界上方。
It was July, so changeable that it was impossible to predict. A plain umbrella stands in the rain. Under the umbrella, the old man with the umbrella is still waiting, with silver hair and thousands of wrinkles inlaid with a pair of black pupils. The rain is very quiet, no lightning, no thunder, continuous into one. But, her eyes, that sharp eyes is electricity! Her shaved hand, the trembling hand holding the umbrella, is thunder Quietly bury the feelings of rain in my heart, quietly stir up the electric fire waves in my heart, interweave these into a haze sky, and cover my world above.
“姥姥,回去吧,我们就要出发了。”“洋,你上楼问你爸爸一声,就说这雨这么大,改天再搬家不成?”我沉默了,面对这渴求的话语,我无言以对。我只有紧紧抱住姥姥,在她耳边喃喃地说:“您等着,您等着,我这就去,我这就上楼去!”然后我转身跑向楼梯。其实我分明地知道,改日搬家是不可能的事,搬家公司的车在楼下等候多时,母亲正在楼上梳妆打扮……但我要去说,我要上楼,哪怕只是为了耽搁时间,只是为了让姥姥多存片刻的希翼,少怀片刻的失望。
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