每天夜里，母亲总是在我入睡之后，为我掖好被子，然后俯下身子，拨开我的头发，亲吻我的前额。日复一日，母亲一直保持着这个习惯，即使我已不再是小孩子了。
I dont remember when it first started annoying me. Finally， one night， I shouted out at her， “Dont do that anymore—your hands are too rough!” She didnt say anything in reply.
不知从什么时候开始，母亲的这种习惯渐渐让我感到不悦。终于，在一个夜晚，我忍不住冲她吼了起来：“你不要再这样了，你的手好粗糙!”母亲无言以对。
Well， years have passed， and Im not a little girl anymore. Mom is in her mid?seventies. One time， it was Mothers Day and I found myself drawn next door to spend the night with my mom.
若干年后，我长大了，不再是个小女孩。母亲也已到了古稀之年。有一次，恰好是母亲节，我决定就睡在母亲旁边的卧室里，陪她度过这一夜。
As I slept in the bedroom of my youth， a familiar hand hesitantly ran across my face. Then a kiss， ever so gently， touched my brow. In my memory， for the thousandth time， I recalled the complaint of my young voice. Catching Moms hand in my hands， I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. But Mom didnt know what I was talking about. She had forgotten and forgiven long ago.
当我睡在我儿时的卧室里时，一只熟悉的手犹豫着从我的脸上掠过。然后，一个吻，带着一如往日的温柔，轻轻落在了我的额头。在我的记忆中，我曾无数次回忆起那晚的情景和我那稚嫩的抱怨声。我一把抓住母亲的手，一股脑说出我对那一晚深深的愧疚。然而，母亲却不知我在说些什么。她早忘了，早已原谅我了。
That night， I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands.
那天晚上，我带着对母亲新的感激安然入睡，我感激她的温柔，和她那充满关怀的双手。
