是否有人记得,皮肤上划过一道伤口,是痕浅疼深。就像爷爷留给我的痕迹,极浅,可想起时总让人疼入心扉。小时候爸妈忙,接送我上下学的任务就落在爷爷的肩上。爷爷骑着辆老式自行车,车后载着我,慢悠悠地沿着江边前行。到了学校,爷爷总是把我拉到他面前,理理我的衣领,拍拍我的衣服,然后用他粗糙的中指在我的额头上描出一个“王”字。描完 Does anybody remember that a cut across the skin is deep and painful? Like my grandfather left traces of me, very shallow, can always think of people into my heart. Busy parents busy, pick me up and down the task of falling on my grandfather’s shoulders. Grandpa riding a vintage bicycle, carrying me behind the car, leisurely along the riverfront. At school, my grandfather always pulled me in front of him, manipulating my collar, patting my clothes and drawing a “king” on my forehead with his rough middle finger. Finished drawing