美国青少年故事（15）

Hello, everyone. My name is Kara.  There is nothing as powerful as the unspoken. You never know where it will lead you one day. Unfortunately my father and I had to experience it firsthand to realize this truth.

As long as I can remember, I've always considered my father an indifferent and insensitive person. And it's no wonder! He has spent his whole life working as a policeman, so he has seen some crazy things in his life. My mother died when I was only three years old, so the only person who gave me love and care was my paternal grandmother. It was nearly impossible to have a heart-to-heart with my dad, especially when it came to my mother. He would always get irritated and refuse to talk about her. I loved looking through my mom's old pictures in family albums and trying to imagine what she was like. She had the most expressive eyes I've ever seen and a tiny spot above her lips. My grandma always used to say my mother had loved me to bits and that she had been a very good person. And I bet I would've never ever learned more, if I hadn't argued with my dad about my grades at school that morning. I would not have decided to take a walk in the park just to not have to go home.

So, I was walking along the road when I noticed a poorly dressed woman, walking toward me. She passed by me very quickly, but I managed to see her face. It sent shivers up my spine. Those eyes and that spot above her lips! I knew it was impossible and that it was all probably a giant coincidence, but my legs just carried me and made me follow that woman. She walked out of the park and turned down some unknown street. Within a few blocks she stopped near a supermarket, laid out a blanket on the ground, and sat down.  I kept my distance, but I tried to get a better look at her face. I couldn't believe it, but that homeless woman looked very similar to my mother's pictures, just much older and crumpled! I don't know how long I was standing out there, but it was dark when I got back home. 

I immediately rushed to the living room and took out an old photo album. There were incredible pictures of my mom and dad's wedding day and of my mom and myself. I kept flipping through the pages and I saw a photo of my mom, which, according to the date, was taken not long before her death. I could swear that it was that homeless woman looking at me from that photo. I took it out of the album and put it in my pocket. The next day after school I headed straight to that supermarket.

I had to wait for a couple of hours, until that woman finally showed up and sat on her blanket. I plucked up all my courage and went up to her. She gave me a listless look and asked: ' Do you have any change, young Missy?' I mumbled a quiet 'no' but stayed where I was. She got annoyed and asked me what the hell I wanted then. I took out my mother's picture and handed it to her. I saw the woman flinch as she looked at the photo, but she didn't say a word. Then I asked: 'Is that you?' The woman quietly nodded and gave me the picture back. I caught my breath and said: 'I am Kara.' She looked me up and down with interest and gave me a bitter smile. After an awkward pause, we fell into a casual conversation. I told her that I had always been told she had died. I asked her to tell me the whole story, but she didn't want to talk about it. She also made me promise I would not tell my father about our meeting.

I was overwhelmed with both happiness and anger on my way back home. My father has been lying to me all my life! And he probably made my grandma keep her mouth shut as well! But I kept my promise. When I opened the front door, I said hello to my dad, gritted my teeth, and headed straight to my room.

"From now on, I would go to see my mother every day after school.  We talked about everything! But when I tried to find out what had happened many years ago and how it had all come to this, she would always try to avoid answering me. But the more time we spent together, the more obvious my goal was becoming. I had to get my mom out of this, no matter what it took.

Winter was coming, so I brought her some of my warm clothes and food. I also gave her all my pocket money. She never asked me for anything, but was always very grateful for those little things. I felt I had to do more, so I started inventing ways to get more pocket money from my dad and my grandma. This still wasn't enough, so I began to steal it. I didn't feel ashamed, because I was sure I was doing it for a good cause. And I was pretty successful, until one time my father finally caught me doing this stuff...