Someday my daughter will be standing in my place， and I will rest where my mother now sits.
Will I remember then how it felt to be both mother and daughter？ Will I ask the same question too many times？
I walk over and sit down between my mother and her granddaughter.
“Where is Rick？” my mother asks， resting her hand on the table next to mine. The space between us is smaller than when I was a teenager， barely visible at all.
And in that instant I know she remembers. She may repeat herself a little too much. But she remembers.
“He’ll be here，” I answer with a smile.
My mother smiles back， one of those grins where the dimple takes over the shape of her face， resembling my daughter.
Then she lets her shoulders relax， picks up the dice.
十几岁的孩子与母亲生活在截然不同的两个世界里，他的世界由母亲监控着。当然，几乎每个人都曾生活在这样的世界里，这是无法避免的困惑。
如今，我也处于这样的监控地位，女儿十几岁时，我便开始用另一种眼光去看待我的母亲。有时，我甚至期望时间停滞，让母亲停止衰老，不再让她无休止地唠叨。
我们在餐桌旁坐着，阳光照射进来，射在地板上形成马赛克图案。女儿安娜坐在我母亲身边。
“瑞克什么时侯到？”母亲问起了我丈夫。
“我也不知道，妈妈，”我耐心地答道，“反正他会来这儿吃饭。”
我叹口气，站了起来。在短短的几分钟里，她已经问了不止10次。
母亲和女儿在玩强手棋，我则忙于做沙拉。
“不要放洋葱，”妈妈说，“你知道，你爸爸最讨厌洋葱了。”
“知道了，妈妈。”我回答着，随手又将洋葱放回冰箱。
我洗好了一个胡萝卜，准备把它切成小块。我用力切着，一片萝卜掉到了地上。
“千万别往沙拉里放洋葱，”她提醒我道，“你知道你爸爸最讨厌洋葱了。”