爷爷是个老中医,家中总是堆满了各式各样的草药。我总是喜欢端着小凳在一旁静静地看爷爷磨药,熬药。可当那一缕缕药气逐渐弥漫整个屋内,我却厌恶地远远躲避。 Grandpa is an old Chinese medicine. His family is always full of all kinds of herbs. I always like to take a small stool and watch grandpa grind and cook medicine quietly. But when the wisps of medicine gradually spread throughout the house, I was disgusted to avoid far away. 小时候常在药铺里玩耍。高大结实的柜台,黑褐色的漆面,发黄陈旧的标签,一副小秤,一双巧手在重重的药柜之间穿梭不歇。爷爷时常会像变戏法似的对哭闹的我拿出几枚甘草片,我含在嘴中,一丝淡淡的甘甜萦绕舌间,于是忘记了药铺苦涩的气味,嘴角微扬,畅想着在遥远的山中,是不是也有人温柔地采摘这些草药,然后晾晒,品尝…… I used to play in the drugstore when I was a child. Tall and strong counter, dark brown paint, yellow and old label, a pair of small scales, a pair of skilled hands shuttle between heavy medicine cabinets. Grandpa often magically takes out some licorice slices to me crying. I hold them in my mouth, a touch of sweetness lingers in my tongue, so I forget the bitter smell of the medicine shop. The corners of my mouth are slightly raised, and I wonder if there are people picking these herbs gently in the distant mountains, drying them and tasting them |