想念妈妈

一年没有回家了,老妈头上的白头发肯定又多了,最近每次打电话妈都要哽咽,每次我都假装没有注意到,四川人,应该是中国人都不习惯于自由的表达自己的感情,尤其是在最亲密的家庭成员之间.告诉妈明年暑假可能又回不去了,我能感受到电话那一头的震颤,小时候坐在妈妈怀里,看着通惠桥头十字路口昏黄的灯光.妈妈在说话时她的声音不是从我耳里传进来,而是从身体的振动直接进入我的心.就跟现在电话里的声音一样.
red就是这样的一首歌.
Red is my favorite color,
red like your mother’s eyes
after awhile of
crying about how you don’t love her.
She says “I know I don’t deserve
supervised sight of her,
but each day becomes a blur
without my daughter.”

听到第二句就受不了了.老妈的眼睛,我从来都不敢直视,因为总有事情瞒着她,小学时口袋里的游戏币,初中时书包里的黄色小漫画,高中时书桌里的日记本,但是这些东西从来没有逃出过她的眼睛.游戏会挨打,小黄书会挨骂,但是当她知道我喜欢上谁时,老妈保持了沉默,时因为发现儿子已经长到了会想坐在别人怀里了??

Okkervil的歌,总是简单的配乐,悦心的旋律,让我伤心的歌词.爱和恨,被他们说的如此简单沉重,沉重得无法对电话的另一边说我想你们,而只敢说想念家里的麻辣鸡.
red不是我的favorite,fall也不是我的favorite,yes也不是,但是我知道,那远远不够,远远不够


歌词:
Red is my favorite color,
red like your mother’s eyes
after awhile of
crying about how you don’t love her.
She says “I know I don’t deserve
supervised sight of her,
but each day becomes a blur
without my daughter.”

Fall is my favorite season,
like falling to reasoning why
you crashed from on high.
She says “Why is my life so uneven,
and what have I done right
but given you your life
if after I led you on into that bar room?”

“Yes” is my favorite answer.
I took a dancer home,
she felt so alone.
We stayed up all night
in the kitchen doing my dishes,
on and on until the dawn.
She said “I know it’s easy to have me
, but I have seen some things
that I can’t even tell to my family pictures,”
and “I’m full of fictions and fucking addictions”
and “I miss my mother.”
She’ll never know I could never forget her.
If I could write her a letter,
I’d try with every line to say
“She still remembers your touch.
And I know that it’s not much,
but you still haven’t lost her.”