每每临了中秋,我总要在琵琶弦上拨出一曲《月儿高》,半是应景,半是爸爸喜欢听。然今次再弹起那优美的曲调,却无人聆听——爸爸在中秋前回老家脱孝了。是的,奶奶走的时候正是三年前的中秋。当时几乎所有的儿孙都赶了回去,而我却因为学业未能前去尽孝,只能独自在家对着朦胧的月思念我最亲最爱的人。记忆中,回到老家与奶奶相处的日子并不多,但其中有一次是在中秋。那时尚小,还未上学,便可以在老家滞留到中秋节后。可也正因为年纪小,所以那段记忆早已模糊得不成片段了。大略记得的,只有那几袋粗糙的麻饼,以及坐在院中赏月时清风中摇曳着的月季甜香。因为回老家的次数少,所以对老家的记忆浅,然而 Every time I come to Mid-Autumn Festival, I always have to put a song on the lute string, “Moon Child High”. However, this time again bouncing that beautiful melody, but no one to listen to - father back home before mid-autumn to take off the filial piety. Yes, Grandma went to Mid-Autumn Festival just three years ago. At that time, almost all of the children and grandchildren were driven back, but I was unable to go to filial piety because of my studies. I could only miss my dearest loved one at home in the hazy months alone. Memory, back home and get along with grandma is not much, but one of them is in the Mid-Autumn Festival. That fashion is small, not yet school, you can stay in their home after the Mid-Autumn Festival. But also because of the young age, so that memory has long been blurred into pieces. I can only remember, only a few bags of rough mahjong, as well as sat in the courtyard when the moon breeze swaying in the sweetness of the rose. Because of the small number of back home, so the memory of the home shallow, however