Unit 1 Friendship using language课时作业

第一节 阅读理解

In this passage adapted from a novel， a Canadian woman recalls her childhood during the 1960s． Originally form China， the family traveled to Irvine， Ontario， Canada， where the parents opened a restaurant， the Dragon Café．

As a young child I never really thought about my parents' lives in Irvine， how small their world must have seemed， never extending beyond the dragon Café． Every day my parents did the same jobs in the restaurant． I watched the same customers come for meals， for morning coffee， for afternoon soft drinks and French fries． For my parents one day was like the next． They settled into an uneasy and distant relationship with each other． Their love， their tenderness， they gave to me．

But my life was changing． I became taller and bigger， my second teeth grew in white and straight． At school I began to learn about my adopted country． I spoke English like a native， without a trace of an accent． I played， though， and dreamed in the language of Irvine neighbors． A few years later and I would no longer remember a time when I didn't speak their words and read their books． But my father and Uncle Yat still spoke the same halting English． My mother spoke only a few of words． I began to translate conversations they had with the customers， switching between English and Chinese． Whenever I stepped outside the restaurant it seemed I was entering a world unknown to my family： school， church， friends' house， the town beyond Main Street， I found it hard to imagine a year without winter any more， a home other than Irvine．

For my mother， though， home would always be China． In Irvine she lived among strangers， unable to speak their language． Whenever she talked about happy times， they were during her childhood in that distant land． A wistful smile would soften her face as she told me about sleeping and playing with her sister in the attic above her parents' bedroom． She once showed me a piece of jade﹣green silk cloth that was frayed and worn around the edge． In the center was a white lotus floating in varying shades of blue water， the embroidery so fine that when I held it at arm's length the petals looked real． I had been helping her store away my summer clothes in the brown leather suitcase from Hong Kong when I noticed a piece of shiny material in the corner and asked her what it was． She took it out and spread it on her lap． "My mother embroidered this herself． I was going to have it made into a cushion， but then my life changed and over here there seems to be no place for lovely things． It's all I have that reminds me of her，" she said． "Maybe， Su﹣Jen， one day you will do something with it．" I admired the cloth some more， then she carefully folded it and stored it back in her suitcase．

There was so little left from her old life． She said it was so long ago that sometimes it felt as if it had never happened． But she described her life with such clarity and vividness that I knew all those memories lived on inside her． There was so little in this new country that