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    On the first day of school our teacher introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.

    I turned around to find a little old lady with a warm smile. She said, “Hi, handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old.”

    “Why are you in university at such a YOUNG age?” I asked. She replied, “I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, have a couple of kids, and then retire and travel.”

    I knew she was joking. I was curious what might have encouraged her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

    “I always dreamed of having a university education and now I'm getting one!” she told me. We became friends. Every day we would talk nonstop after class. I always enjoyed listening to this “time machine” as she shared her wisdom and experience with me. And Rose easily made friends wherever she went.

    At the end of the term we invited Rose to make a little speech. She cleared her throat(喉咙) and began, “We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing. I've learned a few secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.”

    “There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up. Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding the opportunity(机会) in change...”

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流泪的蓑衣

余君才

    那件蓑衣,被我的父亲挂在老屋的土墙上。

    土墙上有一截嵌入在泥里的木头,有些腐朽了,蓑衣就被挂在了土墙的木头上。蓑衣轻轻靠在土墙上,当夜晚的风吹过窗户,吹进老屋,蓑衣也就开始飘荡。而很长的时间里,在土墙的角落,蓑衣始终显得有些无趣和落寞。

    已经很久了,蓑衣一直挂在那里,落满了灰尘与时光的碎片。它,好像被父亲遗忘了,被无情地挂在了土墙上。于是,蓑衣开始在一个下雨的夜里流泪了,它开始回忆起自己辉煌而又辛苦的一生。

    它想,那应该是在很久远年代的一个雨天,有一个放牧的男子,荷蓑荷笠地走进了江南的细雨,或许是要去见一个想往已久的女子。而在唐朝风雨里,有一个词人吟唱着这样的词句:“青箬笠,绿蓑衣,斜风细雨不须归。”蓑衣想到自己的前生,心里一阵喜悦。但它更愿意回忆的是和我父亲相依为命的苦涩的日子。

    那时候,父亲在农村,在三月的细雨里,父亲牵着牛,戴着斗笠,披着蓑衣行走在田埂上。或者,父亲在冬水田里,赶着牛犁田。或者,在稻田里插秧,蓑衣紧紧地贴着父亲的脊背。蓑衣被冷漠了一个冬天,终于感受到了来自我父亲的温暖。于是感动的泪水顺着蓑衣流了下来,滴落在冬水田里。

多少个这样的雨天,蓑衣紧贴着我父亲的脊背,行走在田间地头。可以说,在农村,看见了蓑衣,就好像看见了辛苦劳作的父亲。蓑衣被雨水冲刷,棕榈的颜色渐渐地褪却,它是农忙时劳动的功臣。农忙之后,蓑衣,又被父亲挂在了老屋的土墙上。

蓑衣想着这些昔日的事情,想着那些苦涩的日子,蓑衣躲在老屋的角落哭了。顺着土墙,有蓑衣哭泣的泪痕。但是,它万万没想到的是,我的父亲把它永远地挂在了乡下老屋的土墙上。

    生活在乡下的父亲,终于被说服到城里和我们一起生活。父亲是在一个雨天离开乡村的,离开的时候,蓑衣高兴极了,以为父亲会和往日一样披上它,穿梭在细雨之中。但它失望了,它一直躲在那个角落,默默地等待我的父亲。

    一转眼,父亲到城里已经生活了六年。那年回到乡下修缮老屋,才又看到父亲的蓑衣,像一件精致的蝴蝶标本,挂在土墙上,落满了厚厚的灰尘。这让我想起父亲披着蓑衣,在田间地头里辛勤劳作的日子。让我想起,父亲披着蓑衣,赶着牛从乡村的土路上回家的日子。让我想起,饭熟之后,在山坡上呼喊父亲,寻找那披着蓑衣的身影的日子。

    但是,那件蓑衣,已经被父亲永远挂在了老屋的土墙上。但我相信,在每一个雨天,父亲都会想起那挂在土墙上默默流泪的蓑衣。 

(选自《散文选刊》2012年第3期)