“为什么又要去那个鬼地方?”我小声嘀咕着,极不情愿地随爸爸上了车。他只是意味深长地看了我一眼,便不再说话。“鬼地方”是我口中的故乡:老家除了整日劳作的大伯和大伯娘,便只有我那年迈的奶奶了。偶尔有几个上了年纪的妇女过来串门,常用家乡话与奶奶热烈地交谈。我曾努力去听懂她们的对话,却只听 “Why go to that ghost place? ” I whispered, reluctantly took the father onto the car. He just glanced at me in meaningful way and stopped talking. “Ghost place ” is the hometown of my mouth: my home except for the day labors and uncle, only my old grandmother. Occasionally there are several elderly women who came and talked to her grandma warmly. I tried hard to understand their conversation, but only listened