许多年以后,远离故乡的我,总会不时回忆起与奶奶在煤油灯下的一幕幕情景。再一次回乡,我在旧床板下努力地翻寻着那盏记忆中的油灯,依稀记得一葫芦状的玻璃罩内,暗暗地发出微光。我小心翼翼地捧着布满灰尘的煤油灯,又找出一小瓶煤油。在破旧的屋里,看着这盏黑黑的灯盏,我又一次掉进了记忆的旋涡之中。昏暗的灯光下,奶奶在织补着我的小背心。背心已经很破旧了,奶奶却舍不得扔,又在下面添加了一段。我瞧着她微眯着眼睛,用针线用 Many years later, I, far away from my hometown, always recall from time to time my grandmother’s scenes under the kerosene lamp. Returning to my hometown again, I dug through the memory of the oil lamp under the old mattress, vaguely glowingly shining in a gourd-shaped glass. I carefully holding a dusty kerosene lamp, and find a small bottle of kerosene. In the shabby house, looking at the black lamp, I once again fell into the vortex of memory. In the dim light, my grandmother is darning my little vest. Vest is very old, grandma was reluctant to throw, but also added a paragraph below. I looked at her micro-squint eyes, with needlework