دانلود رمان انگلیسی “نگهبان خویشاوندانم” – خاطرات یک دختر مهاجر

My mother always loved to hold me in her arms. When I was a young girl, or decades later when I myself was already a mother, and even after that when I was in my fifties and helping to care for her as she lay dying, she used to put her arm around my shoulder to pull my head in close. Or she’d take my hand in hers and bring it to her lips. Then she’d look at me and say always the same thing. Cómo pasamos trabajo tú y yo. How we struggled, you and I. I was only ten months old when it happened. So I can conjure our story here, to begin, only through my mother’s eyes as she saw it all transpire, only through her voice as she remembered and narrated the events over the years and decades that followed.