| 第 1 页：英语原文 |
| 第 2 页：中文翻译 |
I've lived in New Orleans for years, now. I never met my father, and my Mother and I were very poor. We lived on Dauphine Street in the French Quarter for the longest time. Though the French Market is a big tourist attraction, thanks to the voodoo dolls, NO T-shirts, etc., it does sell things like Creole cooking stuff (i.e. spices, peppers, etc.).
One day, I was about five or so, and I saw this pink (my favorite color at the time) voodoo doll on one of the stands in the actual tourist attraction part. It was one of our last days (we were moving out of NO), so my mother paid the man a dollar so I might have something to remember the only home I had ever known by. We finished up our browsing and headed out to home, finishing loading our stuff into the little car.
Just shy of a half hour later, my mother and I stopped at the Mississippi Welcome Center by the bridge. My mother's parents had lived in Mississippi for the longest time. They moved from Hattiesburg to Pass Christian with my mom when she was about sixteen (plus or minus). When they died, my mother buried them in a graveyard in north Mississippi, just on the outskirts of Hattiesburg, where it's pretty deserted and quiet- my grandmother (who died first)'s dream. My grandfather died less than a two months later.
