每个人的记忆里都会有一条河流。我的河流流淌在我外婆家门外。那是一条普通的河流,没人动过在这垂钓的心思,也没有三三两两的妇女相互调笑着,抱了盈盈的盆子来这里浣衣,水太浅了,浅得漫不上高处的石头,只能在低处汩汩淌着,默默地滋养一大斑一大斑油亮的青苔。这条河流是寂寞的,热闹的是它上面那座和平桥。那是座石桥,并不古旧,也不风雅,甚而有一点脏乱。从我记事起,就有和平桥。小的时候爸妈工作忙,就由外公外婆带着我。他们的家在和平桥东, Everyone’s memory will have a river. My river is flowing outside my grandma’s house. It was an ordinary river, no one had touched the mind of this fishing, and no twos and threes were making fun of each other, holding a bowl of clear water to come here, the water is too shallow, , Only in the low 汩 汩 dripping silently nourish a big spot a large spot of bright moss. The river is lonely, and the bustle is the Peace Bridge above it. That is the stone bridge, not old, not elegant, and even a little messy. From my memory, there is Peace Bridge. When my parents were busy with work, my grandparents took me. Their home in Peace Bridge East,