讀點好英文:Mother’s Hands　媽媽的手

所屬教程:英語漫讀

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2022年03月08日

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Mother’s Hands　媽媽的手

·Louisa Godissart McQuillen·

Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.

I don't remember when it first started annoying me-her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin.Finally, one night, I lashed out at her，“Don't do that anymore-your hands are too rough！”She didn't say anything in reply.But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.Lying awake long afterward, my words haunted me.But pride stifled my conscience, and I didn't tell her I was sorry.

Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night. By then I missed my mother's hands, missed her goodnight kiss upon my forehead.Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away.But always it lurked, hauntingly, in the back of my mind.

Well, the years have passed, and I'm not a little girl anymore. Mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands I once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family.She's been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe a boy's scraped knee.She cooks the best fried chicken in the world……gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could……and still insists on dishing out ice cream at any hour of the day or night.

Through the years, my mother's hands have put in countless hours of toil, and most of hers were before automatic washers！

Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her.So it was that late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I drifted into sleep in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly stole across my face to brush the hair from my forehead.Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.

In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my surIy young voice complained，“Don't do that anymore-your hands are too rough！”Catching Mom's hand in my hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. I thought she'd remember, as I did.But Mom didn't know what I was talking about.She had forgotten-and forgiven-long ago.

That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands. And the guilt I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.

路易莎·崗得薩特·麥克奎林

夜復一夜，她總是幫我蓋被子，即使我早已長大成人。這是媽媽的長期習慣，她總是彎下身來，撥開我的長發(fā)，在我的額上一吻。

不知從何時起，她撥開我頭發(fā)的舉動令我非常不耐煩。但的確，我討厭她因長期操勞而變得粗糙的手摩擦我細嫩的皮膚。終于，一天晚上，我沖她吼道：“別再這樣了——你的手太粗糙了！”她什么也沒說，可她再也沒有這樣表達過她的愛。那晚我久久未眠，常常想起我的那些話。但自尊占了上風，我沒有告訴媽媽我很后悔。

時光流逝，我又想到了那個晚上。我想念媽媽的手，想念她晚上在我額上的一吻。這幕情景有時似乎很近，有時又似乎很遙遠。但它總是潛伏著，時常浮現(xiàn)，出現(xiàn)在我的意識中。

一年年過去，我也不再是小女孩，媽媽也有75歲了。那雙我認為很粗糙的手依然為我和我的家庭忙碌著。她是我們家的醫(yī)生，為我女兒在藥櫥里找胃藥或在我兒子擦傷的膝蓋上敷藥。她能炸出世界上最美味的雞……將牛仔褲弄干凈，而我卻永遠不能……而且在任何時候都能為我們端出冰激凌來。

這么多年來，媽媽的手做了多少家務！而且在自動洗衣機出現(xiàn)以前，她已經操勞了好長時間。

現(xiàn)在，我的孩子都已經長大，離開了家。爸爸去世了，有時候，我睡在媽媽隔壁的房間。一個感恩節(jié)前夕的深夜，我睡在年輕時住過的臥室里，一只熟悉的手有些猶豫地、悄悄地掠過我的臉，撥開我額頭上的頭發(fā)，然后一個吻輕輕地印在我的眉毛上。

記憶中，我無數(shù)次想起那晚我粗暴、年輕的聲音：“別再這樣了——你的手太粗糙了！”我抓住媽媽的手，將對那晚的后悔之情脫口而出。我以為她想起來了，像我一樣。但媽媽卻不知道我在說些什么，她很久以前就已經忘了這回事，并早已原諒了我。

那晚，我?guī)е鴮厝岬哪赣H和她體貼的雙手的感激入睡。我多年來的負罪感在此刻已經消失無蹤了。

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核心單詞

tuck[t?k]v.把……塞進，把……藏入