秋寒13日下午,电话响起,电话线的那端传来母亲有些沙哑却依然温柔的声音,这在平时是我期盼的,可这刻我排斥这熟悉的声音,虽然,我明知躲不过。母亲低低地说:“你姥姥老了(去世),今天凌晨2点,收拾收拾回来吧,赶在火化前再看看她。”我木然地放下电话,收拾东西,喊上丈夫,带上儿子和他心爱的小狗豆丁踏上回乡的路。 Autumn cold on the 13th afternoon, the phone rang, the phone line came the mother some hoarse yet gentle voice, which is usually I look forward to, but I now exclusion of this familiar voice, though, I know it can not hide . His mother whispered: “Your grandmother is old (died), 2 o’clock this morning, pack up and come back, rush before cremation and then look at her.” I quietly put down the phone, pack up, shout her husband, with the band On his son and his beloved dog Ding Ding set foot on the road back home.