外婆的奶油覆盆子

I was nine years old when my parents put me on a train in Chicago. Dad slipped the porter a few dollars to keep an eye on me until I reached Rock Island， IL. When the train pulled into the Rock Island station， wheels grinding， puffs of steam coming up from the engine， I slid to the edge of my seat and peered out the window at the people waiting outside. Excitement， then fear moved in because I didn’t see a familiar face.

The porter bent down and said， “C’mon miss， this is where you get off. Your grandma be waitin’for you.”

I slid off the soft 1）upholstered seat and followed the man down the aisle. The porter smiled broadly as he helped me down the two steps to the ground， and before I could look around， my grandmother appeared.

Grandma was tall， slim and serious. No hugs and kisses. She wore her long gray hair in a braid that wound around the top of her head， and her 2）rimless glasses gleamed in the sunlight. She walked fast， her black lacedup 3）oxfords keeping a steady beat. My little girl legs had to work overtime to keep up with her.

We m a r c h e d for several blocks at this smart pace， when Grandma stopped so suddenly， I nearly fell on my face. She pulled me into a small neighborhood grocery shop and let go of my hand as she picked up a small wooden box of red raspberries. A smile lit up her usually sober face.

“We’ll have these，” she told the clerk as she handed him the box of raspberries and some money.

Back on the sidewalk， we kept going past houses that were old and not very well kept. Some of the lawns were neat and tidy while others were overrun with weeds and too-tall grass. Finally， we reached a big， yellow house with a fence around it. Grandma opened the gate and climbed the front steps pulling me with her. “This is the rooming house where we’re staying，” she said as she opened the screen door.

I wasn’t sure why my mother and father had sent me here. I knew Grandma lived in Arizona now， not here in Rock Island where my grandpa lived.

We climbed the steps and went down a hallway to a small bedroom. “This is where I sleep—you’ll stay here with me，” Grandma said.

She laid her pocketbook and my suitcase on the bed， then led the way to a tiny kitchen that held all the necessary equipment.

I watched as Grandma washed the raspberries， divided them into two green glass bowls and poured heavy cream over them.

Placing them on the table with two spoons， she said， “Now， sit down and have your raspberries. They’re only good if you use real cream on them.”

And they were good， sweet and 4）tangy， covered in the smooth， cold cream. They were so good that I think of the day Grandma introduced me to this wonderful fruit every time I see them. And I know they need “real cream” to taste the very best.

When we’d spooned up the last bit， Grandma told me it was time to go see Grandpa. My hand tightened around my spoon， and I wished there were more berries in the bowl to delay the visit. My mother said he was sick and wanted to see me. Was that why Grandma was here？ Was she taking care of him？ My friends’ grandparents lived together. Mine did not. I didn’t know why.

We moved down the long hallway to another door which Grandma opened and we entered a small bedroom that smelled 5）stuffy and like medicine. I moved to the side of the bed where my grandfather lay. He didn’t look like the grandpa who came to visit us. He didn’t look like the grandpa who brought me a cigar box filled with pennies. He didn’t look like the grandpa who savored the dinners my mother made for him.

This grandpa looked thin and pale， deep circles under his eyes. His hand trembled as he reached out to me. Grandma 6）nudged me， and I moved closer and took Grandpa’s hand.

“How long have you been here？” he asked in a 7）quavery voice. Not like Grandpa at all.

I looked up at Grandma， not sure what the answer was.

She said， “About an hour.”

Grandpa chuckled， “If that had been your mother when she was your age， she’d have known everyone in town by now.”

This was the grandpa I knew， and seeing him released the knot of strangeness and fear in me， and I chattered on about my mother and father， my little brother， the train， the raspberries—whatever came into my mind. And Grandpa listened to every word. Finally， Grandma told me we’d better leave.

I slept that night with Grandma in a bed meant for one person， but we managed. When I woke the next morning， I reached up to touch her cheek. Her skin looked so soft. She put her hand around mine and squeezed it ever so gently.

Our day went on with short visits to Grandpa. Once， Grandma made me wait in the little kitchen while she gave Grandpa a bath and shaved him. When she was done， she came to get me. Grandpa asked me questions about school and my friends. Sometimes he closed his eyes and lay there quietly， but I knew he wasn’t asleep. He was sick， but no one told me what was wrong. When I was sick， I got well in a few days， but somehow I knew Grandpa wasn’t ever going to get well. Not even with Grandma taking care of him.

It was only weeks after I returned home when my mother got the call that made her cry.

Mother hugged me close to her as she wiped her tears away. “The last thing my dad asked for was to see you one more time， and he got his wish before he died.”

I didn’t fully understand then， but many years later I realized what it must have meant to him， and I understood what my grandmother had done. Even though they’d lived apart for so many years， she spent those last weeks by his side caring for him. Though she’d never said a word about what she was doing， I learned something about duty， loyalty and， yes， love， from this serious grandmother who also taught me the joy of a bowl of raspberries swimming in cream.

九歲那年，父母親把我送上了芝加哥的一輛火車。爸爸給乘務員塞了一些錢，讓他一路照看我，直到我到達伊利諾伊州的羅克艾蘭。當火車駛進羅克艾蘭火車站時，車輪噠噠作響，引擎冒出股股蒸汽，我滑坐到椅子邊緣，朝窗外正在等待的人群望去。我的內心充滿了騷動與恐懼，因為我看不到任何一張熟悉的面孔。

乘務員彎下身子對我說：“過來吧，小姐，你該在這里下車了。你外婆正等著你呢。”

我滑下了柔軟的座椅，跟著這位乘務員沿著過道走去。他笑容可掬地扶著我走下了通往地面的兩級階梯，在我要東張西望前，外婆在我的眼前出現了。

外婆個子高高的，身材苗條，神情嚴肅。她沒有給我擁抱，也沒有親吻。她把灰白的長發編成辮子盤繞在頭頂上。她那無框眼鏡在陽光下微微發亮。她走得很快，那系著黑色鞋帶的牛津鞋保持著平穩的節奏。我的小短腿得加倍追趕才跟得上她。

我們以這迅敏的步伐走過了幾個街區，突然，外婆停下了腳步，我差點兒沒直直地一臉撲倒在地上。她把我拉進附近的一間小雜貨店，然后放開我的手，拿起一小木盒的紅色覆盆子。她一貫嚴肅的臉上露出了一絲微笑。

“我們要這些，”她一邊告訴收銀員，一邊把那盒覆盆子和錢交給他。

我們回到人行道上，一路經過許多老舊失修的房子。有些草坪干凈整潔，而有些卻雜草叢生，草兒已長得老高了。最后，我們到達一間黃色的大房子，房子外面圍著一片籬笆。外婆打開大門，拉著我走上門階。……