Winter have passed, and all things recovery, at this time, the annual Ching Ming Festival again. From the start my notebook, each of the Ching Ming Festival this day, the mother let me put on army colored Spring, with paper money, led me go.

　　The death of our family are buried in people Biandantang Hill, where very far from my house, want to switch cars several Road. I remember a child, I always am glad to go上墳, because the mother at one grave money, me, and I will fill the fields and everywhere to play, until his mother put on my drag car go.

　　I do not know from the start when I go to play it again no longer downtown, but one after another to observe each one graves. I once found in a dilapidated graves, no traces of burnt paper money, I am very surprised that on the down, the language carefully to identify the monument, as if engraved above the so-called "life took part in fighting this war," And he was still a stranger miles! Why, he should be buried in the martyrs cemetery ! Why is no one above the names of relatives?

　　With questions about my curiosity ran to tell his mother, the mother does not rise, but slowly, said: "Alas! You go get some paper money for him it!" I took over the delivery to the mother of a pile of paper money. He went to the tomb, while throwing paper money to the fire, he murmured: "No one has ever been up for your grave, you must be very lonely, and I do not know what you call not recognize you, but you year must be a hero, now has displaced bones, I burn some paper money for you now ... ... "At this time, his hands gently caught one of my shoulders, I looked back and was the mother, she gently from my hands took some paper money, threw the fire, the paper money fell fire, one, two, four ... ...

　　This year went to the vicinity of cemeteries, and because the mother had severe rheumatoid arthritis, she could not , and I go, she is not a person at ease. So we at Outdoor money, his mother threw some paper money said: "Dad! You then you! Small, remote, (my uncle) with ... ..."

　　Finally only a pile of paper money, the mother put it to me said: "Little Wing, do you die for that unknown person burned it, alas! Did not give him strange people poor." the fire ... ... my face, my heart said: "rest in peace now! Next year the Ching Ming Festival, I must go上墳for you!" wind gust over, put the ashes of burnt paper money has been blown away ... ...

　　又逢Ching Ming Festival this year.

　　冬天過去了，萬物復(fù)蘇，這時，一年一度的清明節(jié)又到了。從我記事開始，每年清明節(jié)的這一天，母親就讓我換上軍色的春裝，帶著紙錢，領(lǐng)著我上墳去。

　　我們家去世的人都埋在扁擔(dān)山，那兒離我家很遠(yuǎn)，要轉(zhuǎn)好幾道車。記得小時候，我總是很高興去上墳，因?yàn)槟赣H在墳前一燒紙錢，就管不著我了，我便滿山遍野地到處玩，直到母親把我拖上車去。

　　不知從什么時候開始，我去上墳不再又玩又鬧了，而是逐個逐個地觀察每一座墳。有一次我發(fā)現(xiàn)在一座破爛不堪的墳前，從來沒有紙錢燒過的痕跡，我很奇怪，就彎下腰，仔細(xì)辨認(rèn)碑上的文字，上面好像刻著什么“生前曾參加過抗美援朝的戰(zhàn)斗”，而且他還是個外鄉(xiāng)人哩！咦，他應(yīng)該埋在烈士墓園吧！為什么上面沒有一個親屬的名字？

　　我?guī)е�疑問跑去好奇地告訴母親，母親沒有抬頭，只是緩緩地說：“唉！你拿些紙錢去為他上墳吧！”我接過了母親遞來的一疊紙錢。走到了他墓前，一邊往火里扔紙錢，一邊喃喃地說：“從來沒有人來為您上過墳，您一定很寂寞吧，我雖然不知道您叫什么，也不認(rèn)識您，但您當(dāng)年一定是個功臣，如今尸骨卻流落他鄉(xiāng)，我為您燒一些紙錢吧……”這時，一雙手溫和地扶住了我的雙肩，我回頭一看，原來是母親，她輕輕從我手中拿了一些紙錢，扔向火中，紙錢打著旋落在火中，一張，兩張、四張……

　　今年又到清明了，由于母親得了嚴(yán)重的風(fēng)濕性關(guān)節(jié)炎，她不能上墳了，而我一個人去她又不放心。于是我們就在室外燒紙錢，母親扔一些紙錢就說：“爹！您接著吧！小遠(yuǎn)（我的舅舅）拿著……”

　　紙錢只剩下最后一疊時，母親把它遞給我說：“小詠，你為那位死不知名的人燒吧，唉！沒人給他上墳怪可憐的。”……火光映著我的臉，我在心里說：“安息吧！明年清明節(jié)時，我一定為您去上墳！”一陣風(fēng)吹了過來，把紙錢燒過的灰燼吹走了……

　　今年又逢清明節(jié)。