所有的母亲都曾青春年少

莉莉安

“妈妈为人母以前的那些时光，是一连串被反复讲述的故事。对女儿们来说，这些母亲的老照片既像是一道鸿沟，又像一座桥梁。”

本文（有节选）作者艾丹·勒普（Edan Lepucki），著有《加利福尼亚》《第17号女人》等小说。

In one of my favorite photographs of my mother， shes about 18 and very tan（黝黑色）， with long， blonde hair. My dad is there， too， hugging her from behind， and from the looks of it， theyre somewhere rural — maybe some pastoral1 patch of small-town New Jersey where they met.

I havent seen this photo for years， I have no idea where it is now， but I still think of it — and， specifically， I think of my mom in it.

For me， and as for many daughters， the time before my mother became a mother is a string2 of stories， told and retold： the time she got hit by a car and had amnesia3； the time she sold her childhood Barbie to buy a ticket to Woodstock； the time she worked as a waitress at Howard Johnsons， struggling to pay her way through her first year at Rutgers. The old photos of her are even more compelling than the stories because theyre a historical record， carrying the weight of fact， even if the truth there in is slippery4： the trick of an image， and so much left outside the frame.

For daughters， these old photos of our mothers feel like both a chasm5 and a bridge. The woman in the picture is someone other than the woman we know. She is also exactly the person in the photo — still， right now. Finally， we see that the woman weve come to think of as Mom— whether shes nurturing6， or disapproving， or thoughtful， or delusional， or pestering， or supportive， or sentimental — is also a mysterious， fun， brave babe.

Shes been here all this time.

我很喜欢妈妈的一张照片，当时她18岁左右，皮肤被阳光晒得黝黑，留着长长的金发。爸爸也在照片中，从后面拥着她，看上去他们待在乡下的某个地方——或许是他们相遇的新泽西小镇上的某片田园。

我已经好多年没见过这张照片，不知它被放在哪儿，但我仍然会想起它——尤其是照片中的妈妈。

像很多女儿一样，对我来说，妈妈为人母以前的那些时光，是一连串被反复讲述的故事：她曾被汽车撞到并失去记忆；她曾卖掉儿时的芭比娃娃，买伍德斯托克音乐节的门票；她曾在豪生酒店做服务生，辛辛苦苦地积攒罗格斯大学头一年的学费。老照片比故事要更加吸引人，因为它们是历史记录，承载着现实的重量，尽管被收录其中的是较为光鲜的现实：这是拍照的诀窍，有太多东西会被留在镜头之外。

对女儿们来说，这些母亲的老照片既像是一道鸿沟，又像一座桥梁。照片中的女人不是我们熟知的那个人。母亲又的确是照片中的人——现在依然是。最终，我们发现心目中的母亲形象是一个神秘、有趣而勇敢的女人——不管她是悉心爱护我们的、喜欢否定人的、心思缜密的、喜欢幻想的，还是会让人苦恼、很会幫助人或多愁善感的。

她从未离开过。