Mother's Hands 母亲的手（三）

Someday my daughter will be standing in my place, and I will rest where my mother now sits.
总有一天我的女儿会站在这里，而我会在母亲坐的位置上休息。

Will I remember then how it felt to be both mother and daughter? Will I ask the same question one too many times?
那时我还会记得为人母又为人女时的感受吗？我也会无数次地问同样的问题吗？

I walk over and sit down between my mother and her granddaughter.
我走过去，坐在我母亲和她的孙女中间。

"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.
“瑞克在哪儿？”母亲问，她的手放在桌上，紧挨着我的手。我们之间的距离比起我还是孩子的时候要小得多，几乎看不见。

And in that instant I know she remembers. She may repeat herself a little too much. But she remembers.
在那一刻我知道她记起来了。她可能一会儿的工夫就反反复复唠叨好几遍，但她记起来了。

"He'll be here," I answer with a smile.
“他会来这。”我笑着回答。

My mother smiles back, one of those grins where the dimple takes over the shape of her face, resembling my daughter.
母亲对我笑了笑，笑容在脸上荡漾开来的样子，很象我的女儿。

Then she lets her shoulders relax, picks up the dice.
然后，她的肩膀松弛下来，拿起了骰子。