母女情深 12期

My 83-year-old mother is coming to town this week， and this time she won’t be leaving.

She has always loved Boulder， Colo.―visiting us at least twice a year， making the trek from the East Coast for a long weekend. Those brief， occasional visits always seemed ideal. We could enjoy each other， without making each other crazy.

“Dear， you never make me crazy， but I know I make you crazy，” she always reminds me. But that hasn’t prevented her from deciding that Boulder will be her next and forever home.

My mother may be retired， but please don’t think of her as an oldster. This is a woman who prefers to run errands by bicycle， take as many courses as possible， tutor bilingual children， hike the English countryside， and―most recently―design a website with a political focus.

She’s thrilled about the Bolder Boulder， the Shakespeare Festival， and continuing education courses at the university.

I’m suddenly wondering whether I’ll be able to keep up. My husband and I cherish quiet solitude. We like to read The New York Times， take long runs， and enjoy the excitement of a good thriller at the movie theater. Our Friday and Saturday nights are mostly devoted to fielding phone calls from our 15-year-old daughter whose constantly changing plans―parties， sleepovers， and other social events―seem designed to test how anxious she can make us by evening’s end.

Adding my mother to the mix is like making up a new cookie recipe. It sounds OK， but I’m not quite sure how it will turn out. And， really， the old recipe was working out just fine.

For 30 years I’ve kept a comfortable distance from my mother. Having 10 states between us is my version of my daughter’s closing her bedroom door and text-messaging.

I am quickly trying to learn this new dance of motherhood. As my daughter twirls away， I twirl closer to my own mother， one step， two-step， clap， and back again. It is a dance to both classical music in the living room and the beat of my daughter’s rap music upstairs.

I drive by my mother’s new home， stopping long enough to imagine her tending the garden in a floppy hat and too-short khakis， reading on the front porch only a few miles away from me.

It’s like walking into my children’s room before they were born， wondering what it would be like to have a new life fill the space. How do I get ready for my mother to join my world as I joined hers over 50 years ago？

Children and parenthood help us all to see that we are both teacher and student.

I think about the soft blue scarf that I am knitting and the fact that I am uncertain of how to “cast off”. My mother knows and she’ll teach me. I have read online that “casting off” is the important stitch that binds the wool so it won’t fray and your project will be complete.

Perhaps mothers and daughters are always learning to “cast off” from one another， completing one stage and moving on to the next， trusting that things will not unravel， but will instead lead to the beauty of a new beginning.■

我83岁的母亲这个星期要进城，这次她来了就不会回去了。

母亲一直喜欢科罗拉多州巨石城这个地方，至少一年来看我们两次，花上一个长长的周末从美国东海岸千里迢迢赶过来。她每次短暂、偶尔的来访都很惬意。我们可以享受相聚的时刻，不会让彼此扫兴。

“亲爱的，你从来就没有让我恼火过，但是我知道我会让你这样。”母亲总是这样对我说，但是这没有打消她将要在巨石城安度晚年的念头。

我的母亲可能要退休了，但是请不要把她当作一个老太太看待。她是这样的一个女人：喜欢骑着自行车去办事，进修很多课程，为讲双语的儿童辅导功课，在英国的乡间徒步旅行，并且最近设计了一个关注政治的网站。

巨石城的长跑比赛、莎士比亚戏剧节和大学里的成人教育课程，都让她欣喜若狂。

我突然纳闷起来，不知道自己能否和母亲一直这样相处下去。我和丈夫怀念安静的独居生活。我们喜欢阅读《纽约时报》，喜欢长跑，享受在电影院里观看一部精彩的惊险电影所带来的刺激感觉。在星期五和星期六的晚上，我们通常要接到我们15岁女儿的电话。她不断改变的周末计划――聚会、在别人家里过夜以及其他社交活动――似乎是有意测试在深夜她能让我们变得多么焦虑。

我母亲掺和进来，就像是要配一个新的曲奇饼干的制作方法。这听起来不错，但是我还完全不清楚这个新的制作方法将从何而来。原来的那个做法是很好的。

30年来，我一直和母亲保持着距离，感到自在而无拘束。我们之间相隔着10个州，就好像我的女儿可以把自己关在卧室里发短信。

我正要学会这支新的母亲的舞蹈。当女儿旋转着离开我时，我旋转着靠近我的母亲，一步、两步、拍手，然后再来一遍。既要随着古典乐曲在客厅跳这支舞，又要和着女儿的说唱音乐的节拍在楼上跳。

我开车经过母亲的新家，停在外面很长一段时间，想象着她戴着一顶松松垮垮的帽子，穿着很短的卡其裤，在料理她的花园，或是在距我只有几英里的门廊下看书。

这就像在我的孩子降生之前步入他们的卧室，想知道一个新的生命将生活在这个空间里会是怎样一番情景。我在50多年前加入到母亲的生活中，现在我要怎样准备让她进入我的世界呢？

儿女和父母的身份有助于我们双方明白，我们既要授人以生活之道，又要接受他人的启迪。

我想着那条正织着的柔软的蓝色围巾，不懂怎样收针。我母亲知道，而且她会教我。我在网上看到“收针”是打毛线围巾的重要一步，这样围巾就不会磨损，你的针线活也就大功告成了。

或许所有的母亲和女儿总是在互相学习如何“收针”，完成生命中的一个阶段并向下一个阶段进发，相信一切都会很顺利，并且会让她们体会到人生中新起点的美好。