如今，每当我听到一些声音，像母亲那把茶壶水开时发出的尖叫声，地下室洗衣机的隆隆声，还有， 我那条狗蹦下台阶冲我摇头摆尾时它脖子上那牌照发出的撞击声，便会勾起我对往事的回忆。和母亲在一起的岁月，全然没有充斥于我的生活中的、事先排定的虚情假意的日程表。

　　One lunchtime when I was in the third grade will stay with me always. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me. But no matter how easily I delivered them at home, as soon as I stepped onstage, every word disappeared from my head.

　　我永远忘不了在我上三年级时的那一顿午饭。在那天之前，我被学校选中，要在一个即将演出的小剧中扮演公主的角色。一连好几个礼拜，母亲总是不辞辛劳地陪着我，一起背诵台词。可是，不管在家里怎么背得滚瓜烂熟，只要一上舞台，我的脑子里就成了一片空白。

　　Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator's part to the play, and asked me to switch roles. Her word, kindly delivered, still stung, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

　　终于，老师把我叫到了一边。她说剧中旁白这个角色的台词已写好了，想把我替换下来当旁白。尽管老师这些话说得和和气气，可还是刺痛了我的心，特别是当我发觉自己扮演的公主角色让另外一个女孩顶替时，更是如此。

　　I didn't tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day. But she sensed my unease, and instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard.

　　那天回家吃午饭时我没有把这事告诉母亲。然而，母亲见我心神不定，因此没有再提练习背台词的事儿，而是问我愿意不愿意到院子里散散步。