We have been driving in fog all morning, but the fog is lifting now. The little seaside villages are__1__， one by one. "There is my grandmother's house，" I say，__2__across the bay to a shabby old house.

　　I am in Nova Scotia on a pilgrimage (朝圣) with Lise, my granddaughter, seeking roots for her, retracing (追溯) __3__memory for me. Lise was one of the mobile children, __4__ from house to house in childhood. She longs for a sense of __5__， and so we have come to Nova Scotia where my husband and I were born and where our ancestors __6__ for 200 years.

　　We soon __7__ by the house and I tell her what it was like here, the memories __8__ back, swift as the tide (潮水)．

　　Suddenly, I long to walk again in the __9__ where I was once so gloriously a child. It still __10__ a member of the family, but has not been lived in for a while. We cannot go into the house, but I can still walk __11__ the rooms in memory. Here, my mother __12__ in her bedroom window and wrote in her diary. I can still see the enthusiastic family __13__into and out of the house. I could never have enough of being __14__them. However, that was long after those childhood days. Lise __15__ attentively as I talk and then says, " So this is where I __16__； where I belong. "

　　She has __17__ her roots. To know where I come from is one of the great longings of the human __18__. To be rooted is "to have an origin". We need __19__ origin. Looking backward, we discover what is unique in us; learn the __20__of "I". We must all go home again-in reality or memory.

1．A.appearing B．moving