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第二节 完形填空 We have been driving in fog all morning, but the fog is lifting now. The little seaside villages are 36 , one by one. "There is my grandmother's house," I say, 37 across the bay to a shabby old house. I am in Nova Scotia on a pilgrimage (朝圣) with Lisa, my granddaughter, seeking roots for her, retracing (追溯) 38 memory for me. Lisa was one of the mobile children, 39 from house to house in childhood. She longs for a sense of 40 , and so we have come to Nova Scotia where my husband and I were born and where our ancestors 41 for 200 years. We soon 42 by the house and I tell her what it was like here, the memories 43 back, swift as the tide (潮水). Suddenly, I long to walk again in the 44 where I was once so gloriously a child. It still 45 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 46 the rooms in memory. Here, my mother 47 in her bedroom window and wrote in her diary. I can still see the enthusiastic family 48 into and out of the house. I could never have enough of being 49 them. However, that was long after those childhood days. Lisa 50 attentively as I talk and then says, " So this is where I 51 ; where I belong. " She has 52 her roots. To know where I come from is one of the great longings of the human 53. To be rooted is "to have an origin". We need 54 origin. Looking backward, we discover what is unique in us; learn the 55 of "I". We must all go home again—in reality or memory. | 
