A Plate of Peas一碟豌豆

My grandfather died when I was a small boy， and my grandmother started staying with us for about six months every year. She lived in a room that doubled as my father’s office， which we referred to as “the back room.” She carried with her a powerful aroma. I don’t know what kind of perfume she used， but it was the double-barreled， ninety-proof1， knockdown， render-the-victim-unconscious， moose-killing variety. She kept it in a huge atomizer and applied it frequently and liberally. It was almost impossible to go into her room and remain breathing for any length of time. When she would leave the house to go spend six months with my Aunt Lillian， my mother and sisters would throw open all the windows， strip the bed， and take out the curtains and rugs. Then they would spend several days washing and airing things out， trying frantically to make the pungent odor go away.

我小的時(shí)候外公就去世了，自那以后外婆每年會(huì)在我家待上六個(gè)月左右。（剩余4937字）