Each time I silently replied； No； you are not。 You still watch cartoons； and expect me to do your laundry； and ask me to pick up toothpaste for you when I go to the grocery store。
Now she is gone； off to be an adult far away from me。 I’m glad she’s gone。 She’s impossible and cranky2 and difficult to get along with。 I am sick of fighting； tired of her tantrums。
Her father is angry。 He watches television and will not speak。 He helped her with the down payment on the truck and got her a good deal。 He slipped her cash before she left。 I want to say。 If only you hadn’t helped her buy the truck； she would still be here。 It’s a lie。
“I am never ing back；” she told me。 “I’m a grown…up now。 I want to live。”
What had she been doing for twenty years？ Existing in suspended animation？
The cat is upset by the suitcases and boxes and unspoken recriminations。 She’s hiding。 For a moment I fear she’s sneaked into the truck； gone off with my daughter on an adventure from which I am forbidden。
She left a mess。 Her bathroom is an embarrassment of damp towels； out…of…date cosmetics； hair in the sink； and nearly empty shampoo3 bottles。 Ha！ Some grown…up！ She can’t even pick up after herself。 I’ll show her。 She doesn’t want to live with me； doesn’t want to be my baby girl anymore； fine。 I can be even stinkier than she is。
I bring a box of big black garbage bags upstairs。 Eye shadow； face cream； glitter nail polish and astringent—into the trash。 I dump drawers and sweep shelves clear of gels； mousse； body wash； and perfume。 I refuse to consider what might be useful； what can be saved。 Everything goes。 I scrub the tub and sink clean of her。 When I am finished； it is as sterile and impersonal as a motel bathroom。
In her bedroom I find mismatched socks under her bed and frayed panties on the closet floor。 Desk drawers are filled with school papers； filed by year and subject。 I catch myself reading through poems and essays； admiring high scores on tests and reading her name； printed or typed neatly in the upper right…hand corner of each paper。 I pack the desk contents into a box。 Six months。 I think。 I wilI give her six months to collect her belongings； and then I will throw it all away。 That is fair。 Grown…ups pay for stortage。
Her books stymie me。 Dr。 Seuss； Sweet Valley High； R。 L。 Stine； Baby…sitters Club； Shakespeare； The Odyssey and The Iliad； romance novels； historical novels and textbooks。 A lifetime of reading；each book beloved。 I want to be heartless； to stuff them in paper sacks for the used bookstore。 I love books as much as she does； I cram them onto a single bookshelf to deal with later。txt电子书分享平台
她留下了一团糟（4）
I will turn her room into a crafts room。 Or create the fancy guest room I’ve always wanted。 But not for her benefit。 When grown…up life proves too hard and she es crawling back； she can stay in the basement or sleep on the couch。
My ruthlessness returns with a vengeance。 Dresses； sweaters； leggings； and shoes she hasn’t worn since seventh grade are crammed into garbage bags。
Her thoughtlessness appalls me。 Did I raise her to be like this？ To treat what she owns—what I paid for—as so much trash？ No； she left this mess to thumb her nose at me； as payback for treating her like the child she is。
“Fa la la； Mom； I am off to conquer the world； off to bigger and better things。 Do be a dear and take care of this piffle。 ”
I am a plague of locusts emptying the closet。 Two piles grow to clumsy heights：one for Goodwill； the other trash。
There are more shoes； stuffed animals large and small； knick…knacks； felt pennants； posters； hair bands； and pink foam rollers。 The job grows larger the longer I am at it。 How can one girl collect so much in only twenty years？
It’s obvious she doesn’t care about me； her father； our home； or anything we’ve provided。 We are the flotsam and jetsam； the detritus of childhood。
I stuff garbage bags until the plastic strains。 I haul them down the stairs two bags at a time。 Donations to Goodwill go into the trunk of my car； trash goes to the curb。 Sweat and sore shoulders fuel my irritation4。 My husband has left the house； perhaps to avoid the same fight I wish to avoid。
She left the bed rumpled； the forter on the floor； the sheets in a tangle。 I strip off the forter； blanket； sheets； mattress pad； and pillows。 Once she starts feeding quarters into Laundromat machines； she’ll appreciate the years of clean clothes I’ve provided for free。
I turn the mattress。 A large manila envelope is marked “DO NOT THROW AWAY。” I open it。 More papers。 I dump the contents onto the floor。 There are old photographs； letters； greeting cards； and notes filled with sappy sentiments； bad puns； and silly nicknames。 There are ics clipped from newspapers and book reviews。 Every single item had passed from my hand to hers。
“DO NOT THROW AWAY。 ”
Darned kid knows me too welt。
I read over a lifetime of inside jokes and shared sentiments。 Maybe the pickup wasn’t such a bad idea； after all。 Maybe it helps her to feel less small in a big world。 Maybe； too； the awful summer wasn’t for my benefit； but for hers。 It’s easier to leave when she’s convinced she is too angry to stay。
I retrieve garbage bags from the car and the curb。 Clothes and shoes go back into the closet。 I remake the bed and pile it with stuffed animals。 The cat slinks into the room and looks around with suspicious eyes。 Finally she makes a place for herself between a Christmas bear and an Easter bunny。 My husband es home and calls up the stairs。
“Just straightening up； ” I tell him。 “Can you find some boxes for her stuff？”
He brings up cartons from the basement。“She left a mess；” he says。“I don’t mind。 ” I reply。“She’s not ing back；” he says。 His anger is gone； and now he’s sad。
My little baby； my dependent child； isn’t ing back。 Someday my daughter； the woman； will return for a visit。 Mementos of childhood will await her。 So will I。
亲爱的母亲（1）
克丽斯汀·古尔德
30年之后，我才终于感受到一直以来您是怎样的一位母亲。尽管嘉娜只有10个月大，但是我觉得，比起我几十年的慢慢成长，直到离开您的这几十年，她出生之后的这段短暂的时光却让我对您有了更多的了解。
我开始了一种全新的生活——照顾嘉娜，然而我却不断地想：是什么让您做到了这一切？您养育的不是一个孩子，也并非两个，而是六个。现在，我依然能够感受到一个小孩给我的生活带来的剧变。我明白，与您为养育我们所付出的一切相比，我所经历的这些事情无非是冰山一角，根本无足挂齿。
“当你有了自己的孩子，你就会学会牺牲。”在我成长的岁月中，这是您经常挂在嘴边的一句话。在您的眼里，牺牲是必须具备的一种美德，是为人父母必须接受的一部分。而那时的我却并不这样认为。我不仅觉得没有必要做出牺牲，并且认为牺牲是一件并不时髦的事情，更无吸引力可言。
唉，母亲，如今我又能说些什么呢？我正在逐步地学会这一切。
最近一段时间，我开始把为母之道看作是迈入“真实生活”的第一步。我觉得，直到嘉娜出生的那一刻，我才认识到之前我所过的那种相对而言轻松自由、舒适安逸，并且衣食无忧的生活——并非大部分人所过的生活——不管是过去还是现在。如今，我也成了一位母亲，就像其他所有母亲一样，有了诸多的限制、困难以及不确定性，�