阅读理解
I
arrived at my mother's home for our Monday family dinner. The smells of food
flew over from the kitchen. Mother was pulling out quilt(被子) after quilt from the boxes, proudly showing me their beauties. She
was preparing for a quilt show at the Elmhurst Church. When we began to fold
and put them back into the boxes, I noticed something at the bottom of one box.
I pulled it out. "What is this?" I asked.
"Oh?"
Morn said, "That's Mama's quilt."
I
spread the quilt. It looked as if a group of school children had pieced it
together; irregular designs, childish pictures, a crooked line on the right.
"Grandmother
made this?" I said, surprised. My grandmother was a master at making
quilts. This certainly didn't look like any of the quilts she had made.
"Yes,
right before she died. I brought it home with me last year and made some
changes," she said. "I'm still working on it. See, this is what I've
done so far. "
I
looked at it more closely. She had made straight a crooked line. At the center
of the quilt, she had stitched(缝) a piece of cloth with
these words: "My mother made many quilts. She didn't get all lines
straight. But I think this is beautiful. I want to see it finished. Her last
quilt. "
"Oh,
this is so nice, Mom," I said. It occurred to me(突然想起) that by completing my grandmother's quilt, my mother was honoring
her own mother. I realized, too, that I held in my hands a family treasure. It
started with the loving hands of one woman, and continued with the loving hands
of another.
