摘要
我12岁那年，母亲终于说服祖母买了一张来德克萨斯州的单程票。那是1994年，我的祖母——一位长着湛蓝眼睛、高颧骨的美人——当时已经彻底进入阿尔茨海默症中期阶段。上一次我们全家见到她已是数月前的事了，我们当时并不知道接下来将会发生什么事。“你还是用原来那个格子行李箱吗？”在机场时，母亲这样问祖母。我们则盯着行李传送带看。“噢，”祖母说道，“我什么都忘记带了!我想我们得去买东西了。”为了隐藏我们的忧伤，父母和我又回到嗡嗡作响的行李输送带那儿，不一会儿那熟悉的格子行李箱就滑出来了。
I was 12 years old when my mum finally cajoled my grandmother into buying a one-way ticket to Texas. It was 1994, and my grandmother--an azure-eyed, high-checked beauty--was already well into the mid-stages of Alzheimer＇s disease. It had been a few months since my family had last seen her and we weren＇t sure what to expect. ＂Do you still have the same plaid suitcases？＂ My mother asked my grandmother at the airport, as we eyed the baggage carousel. ＂Oh,＂ my grandmother said.
