B1U3课文及语言点

When people die, they cease to exist in this world physically. But forthe author of this essay, a pine tree in a nearby park brings back fondmemories of her dead mother and she knows clearly that love and memory willnever “die”. Now, she brings her sons to the same place.

ATime for Memories

Sharon Wright

1     Onewarm and pleasant summer afternoon, I sat on an old blanket under a pine treechatting with my mother. For years, we had been coming to this park for familypicnics and gatherings, and my mother and I often sat in this same spot.

2     In recent years, we usually just talked aboutlife, but sometimes we recalled events frommy childhood. Like the time I was thirteen and had my first date, when Motherbrought me to this spot under the tree and told me about the facts of life. Or the time a few years later, when my hair turned out pink for mysenior prom and she’d held me while I cried.But the most special event that occurrednext to this tree was when I told Mother I was getting married. Tears filledher eyes and this time I held her while she cried. She told me she was sad tolose her little girl but happy to see that I had turned into a beautiful youngwoman.

3     Overthe years, we’d watched the pine trees in this park grow tall and straightuntil their needles seemed to touch the clouds. Eachyear of their growth seemed to match our increasingly close relationship andthe deepening love we had for each other.

4     Onthis particular sunny afternoon, Mother and I sat quietly breathing in thescent of freshly mown grass. She was unusually solemn and took me by surprise when she asked me, “Who willyou bring here after I’m gone?”

5     Igave her one of my arched-eyebrow inquiries,then smiled. After a few moments, when she didn’t return my smile, I began towonder what made her ask such a disturbingquestion. Mother picked up a blade of grass and began to shred it with herfingernail. I’d become well acquainted with my mother’s habits, and thisparticular one indicated she had something serious onher mind.

6     Forseveral minutes, we sat in silence gathering our thoughts. A couple of bluebirds squawked nearby and an airplane flew overhead, but they didn’t ease the awkwardmoment between us. Finally, I reached over and took my mother’s hand in mine.“There’s nothing you can’t tell me, Mother,” I said. “We will handle thistogether, like we always have.”

7     Shelooked into my face, and her eyes filled with tears that spilt down her cheeks— cheeks that were alarmingly pale. Even before she said it, I knew what wascoming. Mother was dying.

8     Iheld her tightly while she told me that her heart condition was worsening andcouldn’t be repaired. I think I had known for quite a while but had not beenwilling to admit it to myself. She’d had several heart attacks and, a few yearsago, even open-heart surgery. What I didn’t know, and what she had kept from me, was that her condition wasn’timproving. We talked about her options, which werefew; we cried, held each other and wished for more time together.

9     Thatwas many years ago now. Mother died soon after that day, before my sons had achance to know her. I still come to the park, but now I bring my boys. I stillsit under that same sturdy pine tree on an old blanket and talk to my sons offamily picnics, gatherings and the grandmother they never knew. Just as mymother did with me, I tell my children about their youthful funny behaviors andpraise them for their accomplishments as young adults. We come to this specialplace to create our own memories — memoriesthat I know would make my mother smile with pride.

10    Notlong ago my oldest son wanted to come to the park and talk, so we came and satunder our tree. He hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, then he finally told mehe was getting married. I cried tears of joy as my son hugged me — his hug a rare and special treat. I told him how proud I wasof the man he had become.

11    AsI sat there that cool April afternoon soaking upthe sun and the smell of freshly mown grass, I felt I had come full circleunder this giant pine tree. Holding my son in my arms, I was happy for him,just the way I knew my mother had been happy for me all those years ago when Itold her I was getting married.

12   Lookingover my son’s shoulder, I saw that several young pine trees had been plantedrecently. As these trees grow straight and tall, I thought, will the lives ofmy family continue to grow with them? I wanted to share this spot with mygrandchildren, too.

13    The branches above were swaying in the breeze and in them I heard a whisperingvoice: Who will you bring here when I’m gone? It was my mother’s voice, and Itightened my arms around my son.