“Go on， hurry up，” he yelled.

My heart pounded wildly as I walked inside the dark garage. I had been inside the garage before with my father. My surroundings were familiar. I heard the Coca-Cola machine motor humming even before I saw it. I walked directly to the big old red-and-white dispenser. I knew where to insert my dime. I had seen it done before and had fantasized about this moment many times.

The big old monster greedily accepted my dime， and I heard the bottles shift. On tiptoes I reached up and opened the heavy door. There they were： one neat row of thick green bottles， necks staring directly at me， and ice cold from the refrigeration. I held the door open with my shoulder and grabbed one. With a quick yank， I pulled it free from its bondage. Another one immediately took its place. The bottle was cold in my sweaty hands. I will never forget the feeling of the cool glass on my skin. With two hands， I positioned the bottleneck under the heavy brass opener that was bolted to the wall. The cap dropped into an old wooden box， and I reached in to retrieve it. I was cold and bent in the middle， but I knew I needed to have this souvenir. Coke in hand， I proudly marched back out into the early evening dusk. Grampy was waiting patiently. He smiled.

“Stop right there，” he yelled. One or two cars sped by me， and once again， Grampy stepped off the curb. “Come on， now，” he said， “run.” I did. Cool brown foam sprayed my hands. “Don’t ever do that alone，” he warned. I held the Coke bottle tightly； fearful he would make me pour it into a cup， ruining this dream come true. He didn’t. One long swallow of the cold beverage cooled my sweating body. I don’t think I ever felt so proud.

我現在知道，35年前那個炎熱夏夜和我坐在破舊的木樓梯上的老人并不高大，但對一個5歲的孩子來說，他卻是一個巨人。我們并排坐著，看著太陽落在繁忙的街對面那個老德克薩克加油站的背后。除非有大人或至少一個哥哥或姐姐陪著，我從未被允許穿過那條街。

從祖父煙斗里噴出的白色煙霧在我們腦袋周圍上下旋繞，它們散發(fā)的櫻桃香味使貪婪的蚊子不敢靠近。他不時地噴出一串煙圈，在我試著將手指插入煙圈時他放聲大笑。我穿著涼爽的小睡衣，祖父穿著他的無袖T恤，坐在那兒觀看繁忙的交通。我們數著過往的車輛，并猜想著下一輛拐過街角的汽車的顏色。

我又一次陷于兩頭都夠不上的中間境遇，作為六個孩子中的老四，很多事情對于我來說不是因為年齡太小，就是太大而不合適。那天夜里就是這樣。我的兩個小兄弟在屋里睡覺，我的另外三個長兄和姐姐在拐角與小伙伴們玩，而我是不允許去那里的。我與祖父呆在一起，這也挺好，正是我想呆的地方。在父母和祖母外出時，祖父就在家看孩子。

“渴嗎？”祖父煙斗不離口地問我。

“是的。”我回答說。“跑到街對面的加油站去給你自己買瓶可樂怎么樣？”

我簡直不敢相信自己的耳朵，我沒有聽錯吧？他是在跟我說話嗎？就我們家微薄的收入來說，可樂不是我們家庭開銷的一部分。我只是迫不及待地啜過幾小口，從來沒有自己喝過一瓶。

“好的。”我害羞地回答說，已經在想著該怎樣穿過馬路，祖父當然會跟我一塊。

祖父將他的長腿伸直，把他的大手伸進口袋。我能聽到零錢相碰而發(fā)出的熟悉的丁當聲，他總是把這些零錢帶在身上。他張開手，露出了一堆寶貝似的銀幣。那里面一定有100萬美元！他讓我拿出一個1角的銀幣。把零錢放回口袋后，他站了起來。

“好吧，”他說，幫著我下樓梯到馬路沿兒那兒去，“我站在這兒，聽著屋里的兩個孩子有沒有動靜，什么時候穿過馬路安全，我會告訴你的。你到對面的可樂機那兒買到你的可樂后再走回來。等著我告訴你什么時候過馬路安全。”

我的心砰砰地跳著，緊緊地用汗手攥著那枚1角的銀幣，興奮地喘不上氣來。

祖父緊緊地拉著我的手，我們一塊看了看大街的前后左右。他走下馬路沿兒，告訴我現在可以過去了。他放開我的手，我跑了起來。我從沒有跑得這么快過。街道似乎很寬，我懷疑自己是否能跑到對面。跑到對面后，我回頭尋找祖父，他正站在我離開他的地方，為我自豪地微笑著。我朝他揮了揮手。

“接著走，快點。”他喊道。

我的心砰砰亂跳著走進昏暗的修車站。我以前曾和父親一塊來過這里，對周圍的一切都很熟悉。甚至在看見可口可樂機之前就聽到了其馬達發(fā)出的嗡嗡聲。我徑直走向那臺紅白相間的巨大的老自動售貨機。我知道該往哪兒插硬幣，我曾看人做過并曾多次幻想有一天我也能親身試一試。

那個老巨人貪婪地吞下我的硬幣，我聽見了瓶子移動的聲音。我踮起腳尖伸手摸索著打開了它厚重的門。它們就在那兒！一排整齊的深綠色瓶子，瓶頸一個挨一個地凝視著我，冰箱里散發(fā)出冰冷的氣息。我用肩膀頂著門，伸手抓住一個，迅速一拉，將它從捆綁中拉了出來，另一個立即占據了它的位置。瓶子在我汗浸浸的手中顯得格外冰涼，我永遠忘不了冰涼的瓶子接觸我皮膚時的感覺。我兩手抓住瓶子，將瓶頸放在固定的墻上的厚銅開瓶器下，瓶蓋立即掉在一個老木箱里，我伸手將它撿了出來，感覺好涼，中間已經彎曲，但我知道我需要擁有這個紀念品。手拿可樂，我自豪地走回到外面，已是黃昏時分。祖父正耐心地等待著，并面帶微笑。

“停在那兒，”一兩輛車在我面前飛駛而過，祖父再次走下馬路沿兒，“現在過來，”他說，“跑過來！”我跑了起來，冰涼的棕色泡沫濺在我的手上。“別再一個人獨自過馬路！”他警告我。我緊緊地抱著可樂瓶，生怕他讓我把可樂倒在杯子里，毀掉我的夢想。他沒有。我咕嚕嚕長長地吞下一口冰涼的可樂，冒汗的身體頓覺清爽無比。我認為自己再也沒有過當時那樣的自豪。

Grandpa’s Valentine爺爺的情人卡

I received a call from the nursing home. Grandpa was failing rapidly. I should come. There was nothing to do but hold his hand. “I love you， Grandpa. Thank you for always being there for me.”

Memories...memories...six days a week， Grandpa in that old blue shirt caring for those cattle...on hot summer days plowing the soil， planting the corn and beans and harvesting them in the fall...always working from dawn to dusk. Survival demanded work， work， work.

But on Sundays he put on his gray suit and hat. Grandma wore her wine-colored dress and ivory beads， and they went to church. Grandpa and Grandma were quiet， peaceful， unemotional people.

The nurse apologized for having to ask me so soon to remove Grandpa’s things from the room. It would not take long. There wasn’t much. Then I found it in the top drawer of his nightstand. It looked like a very old handmade valentine. What must have been red paper at one time was a streaked faded pink. A piece of white paper had been glued to the center of the heart. On it， penned in Grandma’s handwriting， were these words：

TO LEE FROM HARRIET

With All My Love，

February 14， 1895

Are you alive？ Real？ Or are you the most beautiful dream that I have had in years？ Are you an angel—or a figment of my imagination？ Someone I fabricated to fill the void？ To soothe the pain？ Where did you find the time to listen？ How could you understand？

You made me laugh when my heart was crying. You took me dancing when I couldn’t take a step. You helped me set new goals when I was confused. You showed me dew drops and I had diamonds. You brought me wildflowers and I had orchids. You sang to me and angelic choirs burst forth in song. You held my hand and my whole being loved you. You gave me a ring and I belonged to you. I belonged to you and I have experienced all.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I read the words. I pictured the old couple I had always known. It’s difficult to imagine your grandparents in any other role than that. What I read was so beautiful and sacred. Grandpa had kept it all those years. Now it is framed on my dresser， a treasured part of family history.

我接到了療養(yǎng)院的電話，爺爺的情況急轉直下，應該去了。我什么也做不了，只能握著他的手說：“爺爺，我愛你。謝謝你一直陪伴著我。”

回憶……回憶……一周六天，爺爺總是穿著那件舊的藍襯衫照看著牛群……在炎熱的夏天耕種土地，種上玉米和豆子，秋天再把莊稼收獲……黎明而耕，黃昏而息，總是如此。生存需要勞作、勞作、不斷地勞作。