生命的加油站

我生命中最重要的一天

The Most Important Day in My Life

我有生以來最重要的一天，就是安妮·曼斯菲爾德·莎莉文老師來到我身邊的那天。那是1887年3月3日，還差三個月我就七歲了。從這一天起，我將開始全新的生活，一想到這兒，我的心中滿是驚奇。

那個重要日子的午后，我站在走廊上，一聲不吭，滿懷期待。從母親的手勢和其他人忙來忙去的樣子，我隱約感到要有不同尋常的事情發生。于是，我來到門口，站在臺階上默默地期待著。午后的陽光穿透覆蓋在門廊上的一大片金銀花，灑在我微微仰起的臉上。我的手指不經意間觸到那熟知的花葉上——南方的花朵綻放著來迎接可愛的春天。我不清楚自己的未來會有什么驚喜和奇跡，憤怒和苦痛折磨了我已有一段時間，這種經歷過后，我感到心力交瘁。

朋友，你是否曾在茫茫大霧的情況下，還在海上航行？如同一層可以觸摸到的白色黑暗將你包圍，大船憑借著測深錘和探深繩，緊張憂慮地在大海中探索著上岸的道路。你的心怦怦直跳，期待這將要發生的一切？在我沒有接受教育之前，我就如同這樣的航船，只不過我既沒有指南針，也沒有探深繩，無法知道距離岸邊還有多遠?！肮饷?！光明！快給我光明！”我在心靈深處無聲地呼喊。剛好在此時，愛的光明照耀到我的身上。

我聽到有腳步向我走來。本以為是母親，我便馬上伸出雙手。有個人握住了我的手，把我緊緊地擁在懷里。她就是讓我領悟世界萬物的人，更重要的是她給予了我愛。

第二天早晨，莎莉文老師把我領到她的房間，然后送給我一個洋娃娃。洋娃娃是珀金斯盲童學校的小學生送的，衣服是勞拉·布里奇曼親手制作的。不過，這些都是我后來得知的。我和洋娃娃玩了一會兒后，莎莉文小姐抓住我的手，一筆一畫地慢慢地在我的手掌上寫下了“doll” 這個詞。我立刻對這個手指游戲產生了興趣，跟著去模仿她的動作。當我最后成功地拼對這個詞時，我露出孩子般的自豪和喜悅，興奮得滿臉通紅。我立刻跑下樓找到母親，伸出自己的手拼寫“doll” 這個詞讓她看。我當時并不知道自己在拼寫單詞，甚至不知道世界上還有文字，我僅僅是用手指模仿莎莉文老師的動作。從那以后，我在懵懵懂懂中，學會拼寫好些單詞，像“針”、“帽 子”、“杯子”什么的，還有像“坐”、“站”、“行” 這樣的動詞。老師來到我身邊幾個星期后，我才知道原來世間萬物都有名稱。

有一天，當我正在玩我的新洋娃娃時，莎莉文小姐走了過來，她把那個舊的洋娃娃拿來放在我的膝上，然后在我手上拼寫“doll”這個詞，試圖讓我知道新洋娃娃和舊洋娃娃一樣都叫做“doll”。那天早上，我和莎莉文小姐剛剛因為“杯”和“水”這兩個字發生過爭執。她想讓我明白“杯”是“杯”、“水”是“水”，可我老是把兩個詞弄錯。她束手無策，只好先把問題放在一邊， 等以后有機會再說。當她叫我再一次練習拼寫“doll”這個詞時，我不勝其煩，抓起新洋娃娃，猛地摔在了地上。我能感覺到腳邊摔碎的玩具娃娃的碎片，心中十分暢快。出完氣后，我沒感到一絲慚愧或后悔，我根本不愛洋娃娃。在我那個沉靜而黑暗的私人世界里，根本不存在溫柔和同情。我覺察到莎莉文小姐把可憐的洋娃娃的碎片掃到爐子邊。想到那個給我帶來麻煩的東西被移走了，我感到十分滿意。 莎莉文小姐給我拿來了帽子，我明白又可以去享受外面暖和的陽光了。這一想法——如果無言的感覺可以稱做想法的話——讓我快活得活蹦亂跳。

我們沿著小路來到井房，房頂上大片盛開的金銀花散發出撲鼻的芳香，我們深深地陶醉其中。有人正在那兒取水，莎莉文老師把我的一只手放在噴水口下。隨著一股清涼的水從我手上流過，她在我的另一只手上拼寫“water”。開始寫得很慢，第二次就快了很多。我站在那一動不動， 聚精會神地感受她手指的動作。突然間，我茅塞頓開，我模糊地感到心中某種遺忘的東西被喚醒了——恍然大悟的美妙感覺讓我情緒高漲。不經意間，我知道了語言文字的奧秘。我隨后就明白了“water”這個字意味著正在我手上流過的這種涼爽而神奇的東西。這個活生生的單詞喚醒了我的靈魂，并給予我光明、希望、快樂和自由。毫無疑問，生活依舊困難重重，但我始終堅信自己能排除一切障。

The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher， Anne Mansfield Sullivan， came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March， 1887， three months before I was seven years old.

On the afternoon of that eventful day， I stood on the porch， dumb， expectant. I guessed vaguely from my mother’ s signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen， so I went to the door and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch， and fell on my upturned face. My fingers fingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet southern spring. I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise for me. Anger and bitterness had preyed upon me continually and a deep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle.

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog， when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in， and the great ship， tense and anxious， groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line， and you waited with beating heart for something to happen？ I was like that ship before my education began， only I was without compass or sounding-line， and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was. “ Light！ Give me light！” was the wordless cry of my oil， and the light of love shone on me in that very tour.

I felt approaching footsteps， I stretched out my hand as I supposed to my mother. Some one took it， and I was caught up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal all things to me， and， more than all things else， to love me.

The morning after my teacher came she led me into her room and gave me a doll. The little blind children at the Perkins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it； but I did not know this until afterward. When I had played with it a little while， Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word “d-o-l-l.” I was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it. When I finally succeeded in making the letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. Running downstairs to my mother I held up my hand and made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that words existed； I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words， among them pin， hat， cup and a few verbs like sit， stand and walk. But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name.

One day， while I was playing with my new doll， Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also， spelled “d-o-l-l” and tried to make me understand that “d-o-l-l” applied to both. Earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words “m-u-g” and “w-a-t-e-r.” Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that “m-u-g” is mug and that “w-a-t-e-r” is water， but I persisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the subject for the time， only to renew it at the first opportunity. I became impatient at her repeated attempts and， seizing the new doll， I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not loved the doll. In the still， dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth， and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. She brought me my hat， and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought， if a wordless sensation may be called a thought， made me hop and skip with pleasure.