老夫的燃烧记

在我还年轻的时候，街角常有一个老头儿，他背着一捆炭火，一边呼噜呼噜地走，一边低声诉说着自己的故事。人们都叫他卖炭翁。他的脸上布满了岁月的痕迹，每个皱纹似乎都承载着无尽的忧愁。

每当冬日来临，家家户户都会点起炉火，那时候卖炭翁就成了我们家的常客。他总是微笑着，用那双颤抖的手递给我们一捆又黑又亮的木炭。他的笑容里透露出一种温暖和安慰，让人心情舒畅。

sells charcoal, his hands are always shaking a little bit. He looks like he has been through a lot in his life. But when he smiles at me, I can feel the warmth of his heart.

He tells me that he used to be a soldier, fighting on the front lines for years. After the war, he couldn't find any stable work and had to sell charcoal on the street just to make ends meet.

I remember one day it was snowing heavily outside. The whole city was covered in white snow, but there was no fire burning in my house because we had run out of coal. My mother asked me to go buy some more from Mr. Wang who sold charcoal on our street corner.

As I walked towards Mr. Wang's place through the deep snow, I could see him huddled under an old quilt with only his head sticking out into the cold air. His eyes were red and swollen as if he had been crying all night long.

"Mr., why do you look so sad?" I asked him curiously while handing over some money for the coal.

"I am just thinking about my past," replied Mr.Wang with tears streaming down his face again."I miss my family and friends whom I have not seen for many years."

The memories came flooding back - how they would gather around their hearth during harsh winters; how they would tell stories of their ancestors' bravery; how they would share what little food they had left after months of famine...

His story made me realize that even though we may seem different from each other at first glance - rich or poor; young or old; happy or sad - we all carry similar dreams and aspirations within us: love, happiness, peace...