他是一位乡村邮递员,是衔着我的好消息,经十三公里乡村机耕道向我扑来的绿雁。我叫他吴老师,他叫我小罗。自从我开始热衷于把稿件拜寄给远方,美美的期待就鹄望于每一天,心绪随着吴老师的来去而起落如潮。我多么喜欢看到邮车轮毂翻飞的样子,多么喜欢听到“报纸哦——书信——来了哦!”这叫卖似的吆喝时常激起我的喜悦,也曾落下无所得的失落感。这种情绪也辐射着吴老师。当我有信件的时候,他就会一脸笑容地向我走来,一边拂开额头上稀疏的白发,一边掏出信件,两手 He is a country postman, is holding my good news, after thirteen kilometers of rural tractor road to the green goose. I called him Miss Wu, he called me Ronaldinho. Since I started keen on sending manuscripts to the afar, Mei-Mei’s expectations have been on the ups and downs of every day, with Wu coming and going. How I like to see the wheel of a mailing car fluttering like how much I heard “Newspaper Oh - Letters - Come! Oh!” This is like selling shouts often arouse my joy, have also fallen without merit Sense of loss. This emotion is also radiated Wu teacher. When I have a letter, he will come to me with a smile on his face, while brushing the sparse white hair on his forehead, while pulling out a letter, both hands