.
涓撲笟
.
涓撴敞
.
.
word
鍙紪杈?/p>
.
Everyday Use for your grandmama
Alice Walker
I will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester
day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is
not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean
as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves,
anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes
that never come inside the house.
Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in
corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her
sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in
the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.
You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is
confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from
backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child
came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and
child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father
weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she
would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.
Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together