Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness,the craving for love and for strength of faith,ever return which we experience in our childhood's years?

童年時代所擁有的那些朝氣蓬勃的精神，輕松愉快的心情，對愛和信仰的追求還會存在嗎？

Christmas Day in the Morning　圣誕節的早晨

◎Pearl S.Buck

He woke suddenly and completely.It was four o'clock,the hour at which his father had always called him to get up and help with the milking.Strange how the habits of his youth clung to him still!His father had been dead for thirty years,but,this morning it was Christmas,he did not try to sleep.

Yet what was the magic of Christmas now?His childhood and youth were long past,and his own children had grown up and gone.

Yesterday his wife had said,it isn't worthwhile,perhaps—And he had said,"Oh,yes,Alice,even if there are only the two for us,let's have a Christmas of our own."

Then she had said,"Let's not trim the tree until tomorrow,Robert.I'm tired."

He had agreed,and the tree was still out by the back door.

He lay in his bed in his room.The door to her room was shut because she was a light sleeper.Years ago they had decided to use separate rooms.Neither of them slept as well as they once had.They had been married so long that nothing could separate them,actually.

Why did he feel so awake tonight?For it was still night,a clear and starry night.No moon,of course,but the stars were extraordinary!Now that he thought of it,the stars seemed always large and clear before the dawn of Christmas day.

He slipped back in time,as he did so easily nowadays.He was fifteen years old and still on his father's farm.He loved his father.He had not known it until one day a few days before Christmas,when he had overheard what his father was saying to his mother.

"Mary,I hate to call Rob in the mornings.He's growing so fast and he needs his sleep.If you could see how he sleeps when I go in to wake him up!I wish I could manage alone."

"Well,you can't Adam."His mother's voice as brisk,"Besides,he isn't a child anymore.It's time he took his turn."

"Yes,"his father said slowly."But I sure do hate to wake him."

When he heard these words,something in him spoke:his father loved him!He had never thought of that before,taking for granted the tie of their blood.Neither his father nor his mother talked about loving their children—they had no time for such things.There was always so much to do on the farm.Now that he knew his father loved him there would be no more loitering in the mornings and having to be called again.He got up after hat,stumbling blind with sleep and pulled on his clothes.

And then on the night before Christmas,that year when he was fifteen,he lay for a few minutes thinking about the next day.They were poor,and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and mince pies his mother made.His sisters sewed presents and his mother and father always bought something he needed,not only a warm jacket,maybe,but something more,such as a book.And he saved and bought them each something,too.

He wished,that Christmas when he was fifteen,he had a better present for his father instead of the usual tie from the ten-cent store.He lay on his side and looked out of his attic window.

"Dad,"he had once asked when he was a little boy,"What is a stable?"

"It's just a barn,"his father had replied,"like ours."

Then Jesus had been born in a barn,and to a barn the shepherds and the Wise Men had come,bringing their Christmas gifts!

The thought struck him like a silver dagger.Why should he not give his father a special gift too,out there in the barn?He could get up early,earlier than four o'clock,and he could creep into the barn and get all the milking done.He'd do it alone,milk and clean up,and then when his father went in to start the milking he'd see it all done.

He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars.It was what he would do,and he mustn't sleep too sound.

He must have waked twenty times,scratching a match each time to look at his old watch—midnight,and half past one,and then two o'clock.

At a quarter to three he got up and put on his clothes.He crept downstairs,careful of the creaky boards,and let himself out.The cows looked at him,sleepy and surprised.It was early for them too.

But they accepted him placidly and he fetched some hay for each cow and then got the milking pail and the big milk cans.

He had never milked all alone before,but it seemed almost easy.He smiled and milked steadily,two strong streams rusing into the pail,frothing and fragrant.The cows were behaving well,as though they knew it was Christmas.

The task went more easily than he had ever known it to go before.Milking for once was not a chore.It was something else,a gift to his father who loved him.He finished,the two milk cans were full,and he covered them and closed the milk-house door carefully,making sure of the latch.He put the stool in its place by the door and hung up the clean milk pail.Then he went out of the barn and barred the door behind him.

Back in his room he had only a minute to pull off his clothes in the darkness and jump into bed,for he heard his father up.He put the covers over his head to silence his quick breathing.The door opened.

"Rob!"His father called."We have to get up,son,even if it is Christmas."

"Aw-right,"he said sleepily.

"I'll go on out,"his father said."I'll get things started."

The door closed and he lay still,laughing to himself.In just a few minutes his father would know.His dancing heart was ready to jump from his body.

The minutes were endless—ten,fifteen,he did not know how many—and he heard his father's footsteps again.The door opened and he lay still.

"Rob!"

"Yes,Dad—"

"You son of a—"His father was laughing,a queer sobbing sort of laugh.

"Thought you'd fool me,did you?"His father was standing by his bed,feeling for him,pulling away the cover.

"It's for Christmas,Dad!"

He found his father had clutched him in a great hug.He felt his father's arms go around him.It was dark and they could not see each other's faces.

"Son,I thank you.Nobody ever did a nicer thing—"

"Oh,Dad,I want you to know—I do want to be good!"The words broke from him of their own will.He did not know what to say.His heart was bursting with love.

He got up and pulled on his clothes again and they went down to the Christmas tree.Oh what a Christmas,and how his heart had nearly burst again with shyness and pride as his father told his mother and made the younger children listen about how he,Rob,had got up all by himself.

"The best Christmas gift I ever had,and I'll remember it,son every year on Christmas morning,so long as I live."

They had both remembered it,and now that his father was dead,he remembered it alone:that blessed Christmas dawn when,alone with the cows in the barn;he had made his first gift of true love.

Outside the window now the stars slowly faded.He got out of bed and put on his slippers and bathrobe and went softly downstairs.He brought in the tree,and carefully began to trim it.It was done very soon.He then went to his library and fetched the little box that contained his special gift to his wife a diamond brooch,not large but dainty in design.But he was not satisfied.He wanted to tell her—to tell her how much he loved her.

How fortunate that he had been able to love!Ah,that was the true joy of life,the ability to love!For he was quite sure that some people were genuinely unable to love anyone.But love was alive in him.It still was.

It occurred to him suddenly that it was alive because long ago it had been born in him when he knew his father loved him.That was it:Love alone could awaken love.And he could give the gift again and again.

This morning,this blessed Christmas morning,he would give it to his beloved wife.He could write it down in a letter for her to read and keep forever.He went to his desk and began his love letter to his wife:My dearest love...

Such a happy,happy,Christmas!

他猛地一下醒來，就再也睡不著了。現在是凌晨四點鐘，正是以前父親叫他起床幫忙擠奶的時間。奇怪的是，他年輕時養成的早醒習慣還一直保持著！他的父親已經去世30年了，他仍舊一到4點鐘就會醒。可今天是圣誕節的早晨，所以他不想再接著睡了。

可現在的圣誕節對他來說又有什么樣的魔力呢？他的童年和青春已然離他遠去，他的兒女也已經長大成人、各奔前程去了。

昨天，他的妻子說，也許現在不用過什么圣誕節了——可他卻十分肯定地說：“不！愛麗絲，即使現在就剩下我們兩個人，那也得過一個屬于自己的圣誕節。”

妻子接著說：“羅伯特，我們明天再裝飾圣誕樹吧！我有點累了。”

他同意了。于是，那棵圣誕樹就被原封不動地放在后門那兒。

他在自己的臥室里睡下了，而妻子睡得淺，所以連接兩個房間的門總是關著的。分房睡是夫妻倆多年前作出的決定。可從那之后他們就再也不像以前睡得那么香了。畢竟他們一起生活了很久，已經沒有什么能把他們分開。

為何今夜他久久不能入眠？因為今晚是一個萬里無云、滿天星斗的夜晚。雖不見月亮，但繁星閃爍。每當他回憶起這件往事時，特別是在圣誕節的黎明之前想起它，星星就好像顯得特別大，特別亮。

這些年以來，他總是不由自主地回憶起那些舊事來。那時的他才15歲，就住在父親的農場里。他深愛著他的父親。可他不曾察覺到父親也是那樣地愛著他，直到圣誕節前的某一天，他無意中聽到父母的談話。

“瑪麗，我實在不愿意那么早就把羅布叫醒。他正在長身體，需要睡眠。看到他那熟睡的樣子，我都不忍心叫醒他。我真想一個人就把活全都干了。”

他的母親毫不猶豫地說：“噢！亞當，你這么想就不對了。他已經長大了，是時候幫家里做點事了。”

“話是沒錯，”他的父親緩緩地說道，“但我真的不忍心吵醒他。”

聽到父母的這些話后，他從心底明白了父親對他的愛。這是他以前從未想到的，他以前只是想當然地以為血緣關系應該就是那樣了吧！他的父母都不會把對孩子的愛掛在嘴上——他們也沒有時間那樣做。農場里總是有太多事要忙。現在他明白父親是愛他的，所以早晨他再也不想賴床，再也不用父親把他叫醒了。這時，他揉著惺忪睡眼，磕磕絆絆地從床上爬起來，把衣服穿上。

還記得，那是他15歲那年的圣誕節前夕，他躺在床上想著第二天要干的事。他家里窮，圣誕節最激動人心的時刻就是吃自家養的火雞和媽媽親手做的餡餅。他的姐姐會親手縫制禮物，而父母會買一些他需要的東西，可能是一件暖和的夾克，也可能是書本那些東西。當然，他也會用自己省下的零花錢給家人買些禮物。

他希望在自己15歲的這個圣誕節給父親買一份好點的禮物，而不像過去那樣，只是到10美分店鋪里買一條普通的領帶。他側躺著，透過閣樓的那個窗戶向外望去。

“爸爸，”他年幼時曾經問過父親，“馬廄是什么？”

“它就是個養牲口的地方，”他的父親回答道，“就像我們家里的牲口棚一樣。”

耶穌就是在馬廄里出生的，而牧師和智者也會在馬廄里分發圣誕禮物！

突然他的腦海里閃過一絲念頭：我為什么不能在牲口棚里給爸爸送一份特別的禮物呢？我可以在凌晨四點之前起來，這樣就能比父親起得早。接著我就偷偷溜進牲口棚把擠奶、清洗牲口棚的活都干完。這樣，當父親進入牲口棚準備開始干活時，就能看到自己所做的一切。

他凝望著夜空中的繁星，安靜地想著，不知不覺得意地笑了。他決定了，就那么做。所以，今晚他不能睡得太沉。

那一夜，他醒了不下20次，每次都要擦根火柴，借著火光看他那只舊懷表。時間一分一秒地過去：1點半，2點……

還沒到3點，他就起床穿好了衣服。他躡手捏腳地走下樓，生怕弄出聲音吵醒父母。牲口棚里，一頭奶牛睡眼惺忪地看著他，仿佛正為他這么早來擠奶而感到奇怪。

但是它們還是乖乖地順從了他。他給奶牛添了一些干草，然后將擠奶用的桶和奶罐擺放整齊。

他以前從來沒有單獨擠過奶，這件事情對他來說好像也不是很容易。他笑著，不慌不忙地干了起來。他看著不斷涌出的牛奶流進奶桶里，散發著一股醉人的奶香味。奶牛很聽話，好像它們知道今天是圣誕節似的。

任務完成得比他想象的要順利很多。擠一次奶對他來說算不上什么繁雜的事情，而是給深愛他的父親準備的一份特別禮物。他擠的奶裝滿了兩大奶罐。他蓋上蓋子，小心翼翼地把牛棚的大門關上，反復確認是否上了門閂。他把凳子放回門邊，把清洗奶桶的刷子掛回門后。然后，他關上身后的門離開牛棚。

回到房間后，他只有1分鐘的時間摸黑脫掉自己的衣服，然后爬進被窩里。因為他聽到了父親起床的聲音。他用被子把頭蒙住，好讓狂跳不止的心盡快平靜下來。這時，門開了。

“羅布,”他的父親叫著他的名字，“孩子，即使今天是圣誕節我們也得早起呀！”

“好的，爸爸。”他裝出一副還沒睡醒的樣子答道。

“那我先去了，”父親說，“我得把事情先干起來。”

門關上了，他仍舊躺在床上，自己傻笑著。幾分鐘之后，父親就會看到自己所做的一切。他的心跳加速，那顆心好像時刻準備著逃出他的身體。

等待總是漫長的——10分鐘過去了，15分鐘過去了，他甚至不知道究竟過去了多長時間。然后他聽見父親的腳步聲再一次響起。門開了，他仍舊躺在床上。

“羅布！”

“我在呢，爸爸。”

“你小子……”他的父親笑了，哽咽道。

“你小子騙了我，是不是？”父親就站在他的床邊，掀開蒙著他的被子。父親感動極了！

“那是我為你準備的圣誕禮物，爸爸！”

這時，只見父親給了他一個大大的擁抱。他感覺到父親的雙臂正環繞著自己，即使在這個漆黑的看不到彼此的房間里。

“孩子，謝謝你。這是我收過的最好的禮物。”

“噢，爸爸！我想讓你知道——我能做得很好！”這些話仿佛自發地從他嘴里冒出來。他不知該說些什么。此刻他的心中滿滿的都是愛。

他再一次起床穿上衣服，然后和父親一起走到圣誕樹旁。多美好的圣誕節啊！特別是當他聽到父親對母親說他現在不用別人叫就知道自己起床的時候，他感到有點害羞，但更多的是自豪。

“這是我收到的最好的圣誕禮物。孩子，只要我活著，每年圣誕節的早晨我都會想起它。”

父子倆都會記住它。現如今，他的父親去世了，只有他獨自一人回憶著：在那個美好的圣誕節早晨，他獨自一人在牛棚里制作了一份充滿愛的禮物。

窗外，繁星那閃爍的光環漸漸褪去。他起床穿上拖鞋、睡袍，輕輕地走下樓。他悄悄地把圣誕樹搬進屋中，小心翼翼地開始裝扮起來。不一會兒，圣誕樹就完成了裝扮。接著他到書房取來一個小盒子，里面裝著他為妻子準備的特殊禮物——一枚不大但設計精美的鉆石胸針。然而，他卻仍舊不滿意這份禮物。他想告訴她——自己是多么愛她。

他暗自慶幸自己還能愛。這正是生活的真正樂趣所在——能夠愛。因為他深知一些人的的確確不會去愛任何人。但是，愛卻能在他的身體里生根發芽。愛一直都在！

他忽然明白，自從知道父親深愛著自己后，愛就久久地活在他心中。那就是：獨自去愛也能喚醒愛。更重要的是，他還能一次又一次將禮物送給摯愛。

這個早晨，這個美好的圣誕節早晨，他將把愛送給心愛的妻子。他將把愛寫進一封信里，讓妻子看后能將愛永遠地保存下來。他走到書桌旁坐下，開始了他那封寫給摯愛的情書：我最親愛的愛人……

多么美好、多么幸福的圣誕節啊！

美麗語錄

If I know what love is,it is because of you.

因為你，我懂得了愛。

Childhood　童年

◎Lev Tolstoy

Happy,happy,never—returning time of childhood!How can we help loving and dwelling upon its recollections?They cheer and elevate the soul,and become to one a source of higher joys.

Sometimes,when dreaming of bygone days,I fancy that,tired out with running about,I have sat down,as of old,in my high arm-chair by the tea-table.It is late,and I have long since drunk my cup of milk.My eyes are heavy with sleep as I sit there and listen.How could I not listen,seeing that Mamma is speaking to somebody,and that the sound of her voice is so melodious and kind?How much its echoes recall to my heart!

With my eyes veiled with drowsiness I gaze at her wistfully.Suddenly she seems to grow smaller and smaller,and her face vanishes to a point;yet I can still see it—can still see her as she looks at me and smiles.Somehow it pleases me to see her grown so small.I blink and blink,yet she looks no larger than a boy reflected in the pupil of an eye.Then I rouse myself,and the picture fades.Once more I half-close my eyes,and cast about to try and recall the dream,but it has gone,I rise to my feet,only to fall back comfortably into the armchair.

"There!You are failing asleep again,little Nicolas,"says Mamma."You had better go to by-by."

"No,I won't go to sleep,Mamma,"I reply,though almost inaudibly,for pleasant dreams are filling all my soul.The sound sleep of childhood is weighing my eyelids down,and for a few moments I sink into slumber and oblivion until awakened by some one.I feel in my sleep as though a soft hand were caressing me.I know it by the touch,and,though still dreaming,I seize hold of it and press it to my lips.Every one else has gone to bed,and only one candle remains burning in the drawing-room.

Mamma has said that she herself will wake me.She sits down on the arm of the chair in which I am asleep,with her soft hand stroking my hair,and I hear her beloved,well-known voice say in my ear:"Get up,my darling.It is time to go by-by."

No envious gaze sees her now.She is not afraid to shed upon me the whole of her tenderness and love.I do not wake up,yet I kiss and kiss her hand.

"Get up,then,my angel."

She passes her other arm round my neck,and her fingers tickle me as they move across it.The room is quiet and in half-darkness,but the tickling has touched my nerves and I begin to awake.Mamma is sitting near me—that I can tell—and touching me;I can hear her voice and feel her presence.This at last rouses me to spring up,to throw my arms around her neck,to hide my head in her bosom,and to say with a sigh:"Ah,dear,darling Mamma,how much I love you!"

She smiles her sad,enchanting smile,takes my head between her two hands,kisses me on the forehead,and lifts me on to her lap.

"Do you love me so much,then?"she says.Then,after a few moments'silence,she continues:"And you must love me always,and never forget me.If your Mamma should no longer be here,will you promise never to forget her—never,Nicolinka?"And she kisses me more fondly than ever.

"Oh,but you must not speak so,darling Mamma,my own darling Mamma!"I exclaim as I clasp her knees,and tears of joy and love fall from my eyes.

How,after scenes like this,I would go upstairs,and stand before the ikons,and say with a rapturous feeling,"God bless Papa and Mamma!"and repeat a prayer for my beloved mother which my childish lips had learnt to lisp-the love of God and of her blending strangely in a single emotion!

After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes.My heart would feel light,peaceful,and happy,and one dream would follow another.Dreams of what?They were all of them vague,but all of them full of pure love and of a sort of expectation of happiness.I remember,too,that I used to think about Karl Ivanitch and his sad lot.He was the only unhappy being whom I knew,and so sorry would I feel for him,and so much did I love him,that tears would fall from my eyes as I thought,"May God give him happiness,and enable me to help him and to lessen his sorrow.I could make any sacrifice for him!"Usually,also,there would be some favorite toy—a china dog or hare—stuck into the bed-corner behind the pillow,and it would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well cared—for it was there.Also,I would pray God to make every one happy,so that every one might be contented,and also to send fine weather tomorrow for our walk.Then I would turn myself over on to the other side,and thoughts and dreams would become jumbled and entangled together until at last I slept soundly and peacefully,though with a face wet with tears.

Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness,the craving for love and for strength of faith,ever return which we experience in our childhood's years?What better time is there in our lives than when the two best of virtues—innocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for affection—are our sole objects of pursuit?

Where now are our ardent prayers?Where now are our best gifts—the pure tears of emotion which a guardian angel dries with a smile as he sheds upon us lovely dreams of ineffable childish joy?Can it be that life has left such heavy traces upon one's heart that those tears and ecstasies are for ever vanished?Can it be that there remains to us only the recollection of them?

幸福的，幸福的，一去不復返的童年啊！叫我們怎能不去珍愛，不去回憶童年的美好呢？童年的回憶讓我心情舒暢，精神振奮，它是我無上樂趣的源泉。

有時回憶起逝去的日子，我就會想起這樣的情景：跑累了，我就坐在茶桌旁的那張高背椅上休息；時候不早了，我早早地把那杯牛奶喝完，然后就那樣閉上睡意濃濃的雙眼，靜靜地坐在那兒聆聽。我怎么能不聽呢？媽媽正在和別人說話，她的聲音是那么的美妙、親切。她的聲音給了我源自心靈深處的啟發！

我用睡眼朦朧的雙眼渴望地凝視著她。忽然，她的臉龐變得越來越小，最后只有一個圓點那么大。可我仍舊能夠看見她的臉龐，她看了我一眼，沖我微微一笑。有的時候，我卻喜歡看見她變成那么一點點大。當我瞇上眼睛時，我眼中的她就變得比孩子還小了。忽然，我動了一下，眼前的情景消失了。我再次半睜著雙眼拼命想讓夢境重現，但它永遠消失了。我站了起來，接著無奈地坐回到那張高背椅上。

“你又睡著了，小尼古拉斯，”媽媽說，“你最好上樓睡。”

“不，媽媽，我不想睡覺，”我答道，聲音小得幾乎都聽不見，因為那個美妙的夢境正充滿著我的腦海。小孩子天生入睡快，我很快就閉上了雙眼，一轉眼的功夫就進入了夢鄉，一直睡到我被喚醒為止。睡夢中我總能感覺到一雙溫柔的手撫摸著我。單憑這種感覺，我就知道那是她，即使在夢中，我也會不由自主地拉住這雙手，把它緊緊地放在自己的唇邊。所有人都回房睡覺了，只留下一根蠟燭在客廳里。

媽媽說過她會親自把我喚醒的。她就坐在我睡覺的那張高背椅的扶手上，用她那雙溫柔的手撥弄著我的頭發。接著，我的耳邊傳來一個充滿愛意的、熟悉的聲音：“親愛的，該起來了，我們上樓睡吧！”

沒有任何羨慕的眼光為我見證這一切。她不惜將自己所有的溫柔和愛都給了我。我沒有醒來，只是親了親她的手。

“起來呀，我的小天使。”

她用一只手托著我的脖子，另一只手的手指不斷在我身上搔癢。房間里很安靜，只有少許的光亮，半明半暗的。她的搔癢仿佛觸碰到了我的每條神經，我醒了。媽媽就坐在我的身旁——我知道——輕撫著我。我能聽到她的聲音，感覺到她的存在。這讓我猛得一下坐起身來，雙手環住她的脖子，一頭扎進她的懷里，并撒嬌道：“我最親愛的媽媽，我好愛你呀！”

她笑了，那是一種多愁善感卻又充滿魅力的微笑。她用雙手將我抱起來，親了一下我的額頭，讓我坐在她的膝蓋上。

“你真的有這么愛我嗎？”她說。她沉默了一會兒，接著說：“那你無時無刻都要愛著我，永遠都不要忘記我。如果媽媽不在了，你能保證永遠記住她嗎？尼古連卡，你要永遠記住她。”話音剛落，她就給了我一個無比溫存的吻。

“噢！親愛的媽媽，我最親愛的媽媽，請別這么說！”我緊緊抓住她的雙膝，大聲說道。這時，我的眼中泛起了淚光，那是喜悅的淚水，那是充滿愛的淚水。

之后，我回到樓上，站在神像前，虔誠地禱告著：“上帝啊，請保佑我的爸爸媽媽吧！”當我用自己那稚嫩的聲音為摯愛的母親重復禱告時，我對上帝的愛居然神奇般地與我對媽媽的愛交織在一起。

禱告結束后，我會鉆進被窩，心里覺得既輕松，又平靜，又幸福。一個夢接著一個夢。那這些夢都是關于什么呢？它們都會漸漸消逝不見，但是，這些夢承載著滿滿的愛和對幸福的企盼。我依稀記得，自己曾經回憶起卡爾·伊凡內奇和他的悲慘命運。他是我唯一認識的苦命人。我為他感到難過，同時我也深愛著他。就這樣想著想著，我的眼眶泛起了淚光：“祈求上帝賜予他幸福，讓我幫他減輕一些痛苦吧！我愿為他做任何事情。”接著，我會拿出心愛的玩具——一只陶瓷小狗或者一只小兔——把它們藏在枕頭后的角落里，好好地看著它們溫暖、舒適地躺在那里。我接著禱告，求上帝賜給每個人幸福，讓所有人都稱心如意，明天散步會有個好天氣。然后我翻了個身，臉上已被淚水浸濕。最后我沉沉地、靜靜地睡著了。

童年時代所擁有的那些朝氣蓬勃的精神，輕松愉快的心情，對愛和信仰的追求——還會存在嗎？當天真的喜悅和對愛的無限追求——這兩種最崇高的美德成為我們一生的追求時，又會有什么比這兩者更美好？

如今，那些真誠的企盼在哪兒呢？如今，我們最好的禮物——感動的淚水——又在哪兒呢？天使會擦干這些淚水，微笑著把充滿兒童樂趣的美夢帶給我們。難道生活所留下的只是苦難的印跡，卻把淚水與歡喜永遠地帶走了？難道留給我們的就只是回憶？

美麗語錄

Life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets.So,love the people who treat you right and forget about the ones who do not.

生命太短，沒留時間給我們每日帶著遺憾醒來。所以去愛那些對你好的人，忘掉那些不知珍惜你的人。

This Boy and His Bicycle　騎單車的男孩

◎Franklin B.Holleman

It's wonderful to be back in my boyhood hometown again to visit with my now elderly mother.It seems like centuries ago when I was growing up here.Back then,this small town was just a backdrop that formed the unremarkable environment in which I lived my everyday life.

Mom's doing great for her age,but she's moving slower these days.After a lengthy but heartwarming talk in the den about my wife,the kids and how well work is going back in the big city far from here,we have reached the point of being all talked out for now.

What a perfect time to go for a walk and get some fresh air!The outside loudly calls for a look around the neighborhood to see how things have changed,and how things have stayed the same.As I walk down the street,it's like I'm on my trusted bicycle riding around as a young boy.I'm on yet another grand mission on my bike again.Oh,the places my bike could take me,and did.

There's the small corner store,just a quick bike ride down one street and up another,where I can get an ice-cold soda in a glass bottle with the red metal cap.Inside is the long candy aisle where I must carefully consider my choices;will it be a candy bar,or pack of football cards with the bonus flat piece of bubble gum,or a handful of fireball jawbreakers?...The freedom to decide continues unabated?Only the stakes are higher with time,requiring proportionally greater wisdom.

There's the bridge over the lazy river where I love to park my bike,and just sit on the tall ledge to think penetrating thoughts,as I look down the river into the expansive horizon.How far does this river go,and what is beyond the river,and even what is beyond that?Maybe someday I can travel to experience it on my own when I get older...Many are the places I've since traveled,only to enlarge my curiosity further,as my awareness of the unknown has grown.

It's only a quick ride to reach the old retired doctor's house,whose lawn I mow weekly.He pays me a modest wage to help maintain his large yard.We always enjoy talking as we work together.I don't remember exactly all that we talked about,but I do remember that he always listened and I felt appreciated.He sure did know a lot about what life has in store that is common to every man...His example of deliberate kindness and thoughtful wisdom showed me how to pass on the same to others younger than myself,many times over the years.

Up ahead is her house,just three houses down from that corner.I sure do have a crush on her.She is so lovely with pretty blond hair.I need to ride past her house yet again to see if I might find her outside where I could maybe,just maybe,have the chance to talk with her after school.I'm not sure what to say given the chance,but it's worth the risk.Too bad she never really noticed me at school,even though we shared the same classes;I wonder where she is now...Years later in college,it was just as awkward when I first met my future bride and struggled to start a conversation,but those moments surprisingly became the initial spark that turned into the real communication of our now 25-year marriage.

Where is that special tree?I know it's somewhere around here between these two houses,or is it the next house?I guess the tree is now long gone.Having packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich lunch in my bicycle basket,I'm set to spend almost the entire day climbing around in it,where I can think and dream unrestrained.It is here I have found a glorious refuge;each large branch is its own lavish room comprising my expansive estate.What a rich man I am to have found such an interesting place that I can call my own!I love to climb to the very top where the highest branch is so narrow,I must hold on tight as I sway widely with it in the wind—because the higher I go,the more I can see.I can even see past the supermarket,with a glimpse of the ocean a mile beyond that.I'm glad my mother never knew how high I dared to climb...Ever since then,I have always found it well worth paying the price to reach the vantage point that affords life's best perspective.

My bicycle enabled so much adventure along the safe sidewalks and sleepy streets of my town.It offered great freedom to explore.There were so many places to ride my bike,including special places that only I knew about.There were seemingly endless opportunities for discovery,compelling experiences,and even the thrill of imagined danger.

My life then had space wide enough to ride but secure enough with all its well-defined boundaries,where I purposed to set my course towards creating an engaging life to enjoy.This was a place that couldn't have been more adventurous.

It's been decades since those days of boyhood exploration,and I'm sure that rust has long since consumed my old bike.But even though everything is different now,nothing has changed.Life remains an adventure that continually beckons.Although I am more established now,I still fashion the places I call my own so that I may live large.I still must plan to set a direction and be careful to navigate a wise path.

This wonderful little town—this special appointed place—provided a significant time of preparation which was a microcosm of my life,where I learned,without realizing I was learning,the most important things before I ever lived them.

與年邁的母親攜手重游兒時的故鄉，是一件很美妙的事情！我在這兒長大的事情就像發生在幾世紀以前一樣。想當初，這個小鎮只是我童年生活一個不起眼的背景罷了。

母親年事已高，但按這個年紀來說，她的身體還算是硬朗的，只是這幾天動作遲緩了一些。我們在書房里進行了一次暖人心房的長談，談到我的妻子、孩子以及遠在大城市里的工作事宜。我們把眼前的一切說了個遍。

這真是到戶外散散步，呼吸一下新鮮空氣的完美時刻啊！我仿佛聽到一個聲音，它在召喚著我看看身邊的一切，看世事如何變遷又如何保有原樣。我走過街道，就好像重新騎上我那心愛的單車，回到我的少年時代。我又將開始一次美妙的單車之旅了。啊！單車將帶著我重游故地。

街角有個小店，就是騎單車從一條街轉向另一條街的那個拐角。我能從小店里買到一杯玻璃瓶裝的冰鎮蘇打汽水，還有一個大紅色的金屬蓋子。小店里面有一條長長的糖果長廊，讓我不得不認真考慮自己的選擇：是買一塊糖果呢，還是買一套隨贈泡泡糖的足球卡，還是買形狀酷似火球的硬糖？……選擇的自由不曾消失過，只是隨著時間的推移，這種自由需要與之相稱的智慧來調配。

潺潺流動的河面上架著一座高橋，我總喜歡把單車停在那兒，然后靜靜地坐著冥想。當我低頭望著小河，眺望無際的地平線時，我的腦中總會閃現出一些奇怪的念頭：“這條河會流到哪里呢？河的前面會是什么呢？那前面的前面又會是什么呢？也許有一天，當我長大的時候，我可以獨自去旅行，去體驗……我去過許許多多地方，只是為了擴大我的好奇心，因為我已然意識到自己對這個世界有多么的無知。”

騎單車去那個已經退休的老醫生家里，不一會兒功夫就到了。我每個星期都會為他修剪草坪。他也會多少給我一些報酬，讓我幫他打理他的大院子。一起工作時我們聊得十分開心。雖然我早已記不清我們具體聊了些什么，但是我記得他總會耐心聆聽，這讓我覺得他十分尊重我。當然，他確實知道對每個平凡的人來說，生活的真正面目會是什么。多年以來，擁有善良和智慧的他成了我的榜樣，激勵著我將這些美德傳播給比我年輕的人們。

前面拐角過去再過三棟房子便是她的家了。我很確定自己迷上了她。她留著一頭漂亮的金發，可愛至極。放學后，我騎著單車一次又一次經過她家門前，想著她是不是剛好從屋內出來，或許，就只是或許，我能有機會跟她說上話。其實即使有這種機會，我也不知道該說些什么，但無論如何都值得一試。可不幸的是，她在學校從未真正注意到我，即使她跟我是同班同學。我很想知道如今她身在何方……多年以后，我在大學里第一次碰見我的未來新娘時，我還是那么害羞，甚至不知道怎樣開始我們的談話。然而，奇妙的是，這些時刻竟成了點燃我們到如今持續25年婚姻的愛情之火。

那棵特別的樹去哪兒了呢？我知道它就在這附近，可能在這兩棟房子中間，也可能在下一棟房子旁邊。我猜那棵樹已經消失很久了。我為自己準備了午餐，是花生醬和果凍三明治，它們就放在單車前面的籃子里。這樣，我就可以一整天都待在樹上，無拘無束地想著。這兒對我來說是一個絕佳的避難所，每一根粗大的樹枝都是一個華麗的房間，都是我美麗城堡里的一部分。能夠找到這樣一個有趣的專屬堡壘，我真是一個富有的人啊！我總喜歡爬上最高的地方，因為爬得越高，看得越遠。可那兒的樹枝很細，我必須緊緊抓住它，任由自己在風中搖擺。我甚至還能看見超市，瞥見一公里以外的海洋。我很慶幸母親不知道我會爬到這么高的地方……從那以后，我深深地覺得，為了欣賞生活的最美景致爬上那個致高點是值得的。

我的單車曾帶著我在這個小鎮里冒險——穿過安全的人行道和寂靜的街道。有了它，我更能享受探索的自由。單車帶著我去過許多地方，包括那些只有我知道的地方。看起來探索的機會是無窮無盡的，探索的經歷是驚心動魄的，甚至想象中的危險也能令人興奮不已。

如今，我的生活有了更廣闊的空間去行駛，然而，也有了足夠安全的定義分明的界限。我早已計劃好去創造、去享受那種美好生活。那將會是一個不需要任何冒險的地方。

少年時代的探索已然過去數十年了，我的舊單車肯定也早已銹跡斑斑了吧！然而，雖然現在一切看似早已不同往日，但事實上什么都不曾改變過。生活依舊是一種冒險，依舊不停地召喚著我們。雖然如今的我也算是小有成就，可我仍然不停地建造屬于我的城堡，讓自己生活的空間變大。我仍舊要為前進的方向計劃著，并小心地航行在智慧的道路上。

這個奇特的小鎮，這個與眾不同的地方，是我人生中一段意義深遠的準備，就像我生活里的一個微觀世界。在這兒，我接受了無聲無息的教育，學到了對于此后生活無比重要的東西。

美麗語錄

We grow neither better or worse as we grow old but more and more like ourselves.

隨著年齡的增長，我們并不變好也不變壞，而是變得更像我們自己。

Hello,6-year-old Child　你好，6歲的朋友

◎Amy Ozols

Seeing as how fate has brought us together here,in the crowded coach section of this expensive airplane,I thought I should introduce myself.

My name is Amy,and I'm an adult.I suspect that you're too young to understand what"adult"means,so let me explain.It means that I'm taller than you,and smarter,and that I get to do lots of awesome things,like smoke cigarettes and ovulate It also means that I like to take naps on airplanes and read my newspaper in silence.These things seem to be very different from the things that you like to do.

I've gleaned from its near-constant utterance by the woman sitting next to you—your mother,I suppose,or perhaps a social worker or a federal prisoner who's being paid to spend time with you—that your name is Timmy.It's probably Timothy,actually,but people call you Timmy because it's cuter.Which is appropriate,Timmy,because you're very cute,you really are.

I'm going to drink this cup of coffee—would you like some?I didn't think so.You're more of a juice-box man,from what I gather.The way I gather this is by looking at the stain on my ninety-eight-dollar pants,the one you made when you put your juice box there.If I touched your pants,Timmy,I would probably be sent to jail.There are lots of differences between you and me,but that's one of the big ones:the quality and the seriousness of what happens when we touch other people's pants.

You're not much of a sleeper,are you,Timmy?We've just met,but it seems to me like maybe you don't really enjoy sleeping all that much.In fact,it seems to me that one of your greatest joys in life is wakefulness—and not simply passive wakefulness but the kind of vigorous wakefulness that makes a person like me start to question the very possibility of silence as a condition that can exist in the universe.I can see that I've confused you,Timmy,and I apologize;I was only trying to point out that you really seem to enjoy being awake.Let me make it up to you by giving you this modest dose of Ambien.It's a kind of candy for your soul.Your soul is a kind of mouth that's inside your brain.

Here comes the nice stewardess lady with a bag for collecting people's garbage.Would you like me to give her some of the garbage that's strewn all over your seat—and,if we're being perfectly honest here,Timmy,all over my seat as well?And,while we're at it,maybe I could give her this talking doll—the one that sings songs,very loud songs,songs of terrifying and ungodly volume,from that animated movie about adventurous insects.It's not that I don't love the doll;it's just that I'm pretty sure it's illegal for children to carry such things on airplanes.Have you heard of terrorism,Timothy?That's why it's illegal for you to have this doll.

Your whimpering and your dripping facial parts suggest that perhaps this conversation has run its course,so I'll let you get back to your finger painting,your fidgeting,and your wanton,inexplicable shredding of the in-flight magazine.I'll be here in my seat,fantasizing about hurtling my childless adult body out of the airplane and into the sky.Enjoy the rest of the flight,Timmy.I've really enjoyed sitting next to you.It's fun to make new friends.

既然命運讓我們在這架豪華飛機上擁擠的二等艙里相遇，我想我有必要介紹一下自己。

我叫艾米，是一個大人。我猜你還小，不明白什么是“大人”，那就讓我解釋一下吧！它的意思就是：我比你高，比你聰明，而且我做了很多可怕的事情，例如抽煙和排卵。當然它也意味著我喜歡在飛機上小憩，或者靜靜地看報紙。看樣子，你喜歡做的事情和以上這些是大不相同的。

我從坐在你身邊的那位婦女——我猜是你的母親，或者也許只是別人花錢雇來陪你玩的社工或聯邦囚犯——口中得知，你的名字叫蒂米。我不敢確定，也許你的真名叫蒂莫西，只是人們覺得蒂米這個名字更可愛，于是就這樣叫你了吧！這個名字的確很適合你，因為你真的很可愛。

我要喝咖啡了，你想來一杯嗎？我想你不會喜歡咖啡的。據我觀察，你最多只喝果汁。那么，我是怎樣得出這個結論呢？我注意到我那條價值98美金的褲子上有一個污點，那是你把果汁盒放在上面時留下的痕跡。蒂米，如果我碰到你的褲子，我很可能會被關進監獄。你我之間有太多不同，其中一個最大的不同就是：當我們碰到其他人的褲子時，我會受到責罵，而你不會。

蒂米，你不大喜歡睡覺，是吧？雖然我們剛認識，可在我看來，你并不把睡覺當作一種享受。事實上，你人生中的最大樂趣之一就是醒著。你醒著，不是消極地，而是精力旺盛地。于是，像我這樣的人便開始質疑——在宇宙中生存的條件真的是沉默嗎？蒂米，我知道我讓你困惑了，我向你道歉。我只是想說你真的很享受醒著的每分每秒。讓我為你適當地開一些安眠藥吧！它就像是為你的心靈準備的糖果，而你的心靈就是大腦的嘴巴。

迎面走來一位拿著塑料袋的女服務員，她正在收拾垃圾。你要不要把自己座位上的那些垃圾交給她呢？蒂米，不如我們誠實一點，把我座位上的那些也交給她吧？也許我該把那個會說話的布娃娃——大聲唱著熱門電影昆蟲歷險記里的主題曲，聲音還大得驚人的娃娃——交給她。我這么做只是覺得兒童攜帶這樣的東西上飛機是不合規定的，并不是因為我不喜歡那個布娃娃。蒂莫西，你聽說過恐怖主義嗎？這就是為什么不允許你把這個布娃娃帶上飛機的原因。

你臉上的淚滴表明，或許這次談話起作用了。所以，我讓你回去繼續你的手指畫，你的好動，你的任性，你無理取鬧地將飛機內的雜志撕毀。我則安坐在我的座位上，幻想著那個幼稚的我能夠在飛機外的天空中奔跑。蒂米，好好享受接下來的旅程吧！很高興能夠坐在你旁邊。結交新朋友真是一件有趣的事情。

美麗語錄

Listen quietly,to the sound of your heart.Cheerful melodies may rise.Some simple,some profound,some gentle,some loud.

靜靜聆聽內心世界的聲音，常常有令人歡喜的旋律響起。可以簡單、可以深沉，可以抒情、可以喧鬧。

A Funny Memory　童真記趣

◎Henry Rollin

Oh God!I think I was about seven and half when my sisters and I pulled this stupid stunt.I remember watching television with them and the show on happened to be our favorite program to watch.All of a sudden we heard my brother,Chris,yelling from the backyard.So we all headed out there to see what happened.When we finally located him,he was in a tree hanging from the highest tree branch.Crying,he explained to us that he had climbed up the tree and couldn't get down.We thought,okay,one of us should climb up and get him off,but we couldn't manage to get him moving down.

It was then my youngest sister,Ka,who was five and a half at the time had seen a similar situation.She suggested we grab a sheet,hold it under the branch Chris was hanging off of,and tell him to drop so we can catch him.My other sister,Yams,who is one year younger than me,peered at me to confirm the idea and I said"Yeah,let's try that."

So we grabbed a sheet from the closet and went to hold it beneath the tree.Now mind you,the ages holding this blanket were ranging from seven and a half to five and a half,thus the sheet was probably being held up to our waist and also close to touching the ground.But we were confident it could work.

We looked up to Chris and he looked down at us a bit hesitant.I don't blame him the poor guy.It was then we told him to let go and to fall on his back.Chris looked at me and asked"Are you sure I'll land on the blanket?"Now,my brother at the age of four,had a cute squeaky voice.But because of a problem at birth with his tongue being a bit attached to the mouth,it came out more like this,"Ah you sho awill lan on da blanked?","Yup!",I told him,"We're sure!"and he let go.

Now when I think about Chris letting go of that branch,I think of his faith in me and my sisters and I also think how stupid he was to trust us,cause when that boy let go he was in for a big surprise.Chris fell right through that sheet and landed right on his stomach.And no matter how tight we held on to the sheet,he still managed to get through.

We were shocked and a bit worried and we looked at the ground where he landed.This tiny seventy pound boy had made a hole right through the sheet and landed.He was positioned like one of those chalk drawings you find after a homicide,with one arm near the head another to the side and the knee bent a bit.We might as well have drawn an outline because he wasn't moving.So we bent down to check if he was still alive and when we asked him if he was okay he uttered these five words..."Ah stee hi da flow"in other words,"I still hit the floor!"Poor little man!But before you condemn us,Chris is fourteen now and he still bugs us about it,any tree he climbs he gets down on his own and,strangely,he wants to be a fireman when he grows up.Now he can write that he had personal experience about jumping and catching.See,no harm done...

噢，我的天吶！我記得我跟妹妹們一起做這件蠢事的時候我才７歲半。我記得那時我們正在看電視，播的正好是我們最喜愛的一檔節目。正在這時，我聽到后院傳來弟弟克里斯的叫喊聲。所以我們所有人都跑到后院看發生了什么事。最后，當我們找到他時，他正在那根最高的樹枝上大哭呢！他向我們解釋說，他爬上這棵樹之后就下不來了。我們想了一會兒，覺得我們中的一個人必須爬上這棵樹，然后把他帶下來。可我們當中沒有一個人能夠做到。

這時，我最小的妹妹，只有５歲半的卡想起在一個節目里看過類似的情況。她建議我們抓住一張床單，然后站在克里斯所在的那根樹枝下，讓他跳下來，然后我們就可以接住他了。這時，另一個比我小一歲的妹妹楊思看了我一眼，想要問我覺得這個提議如何。我說：“那好吧！讓我們試一下。”

于是，我們從壁櫥里拿來一張床單，緊緊地抓住它，站在樹底下。值得提醒的是，拉床單的人的年齡從5歲半到7歲半不等。也就是說，即使我們把床單拉到了腰的位置，它還是離地面很近。但我們卻堅信這個方法行得通。

我們抬頭看了看克里斯，他正低頭看著我們，看得出來他有些猶豫。我不會責怪這個可憐的小家伙。接著，我們叫他松手，背朝地往下跳。克里斯看了看我，問道：“你確定我會落在床單上？”現在，我的弟弟才四歲，說話聲音細尖細尖的，很可愛。可由于一些先天因素，他有時說話會有點大舌頭。所以這句話聽上去更像是：你“切”定“窩”能落在那個“長”單上？“對的！”我很肯定地告訴他，“我們確定。”于是，他松開雙手跳了下來。

現在我想起克里斯放開那根樹枝時，他對我和其他妹妹是多么信任啊！可我又覺得他太蠢了，他相信了我們。因為他不知自己松手后迎來的將是個大大的驚喜。克里斯正好掉在那張床單上。可他穿過那張床單，摔了個底朝天。盡管我們幾個已經使出渾身力氣抓緊那張床單，他還是穿了過去。

我們嚇壞了，看著摔在地上的克里斯，我們擔心極了。這個只有70磅重的小男孩在那張床單上穿了一個大洞，最后落在了地上。他呆呆地躺在那兒，就像在兇案現場用粉筆畫出的受害者一樣。他的一只手放在腦袋旁邊，另一只手放在身體旁邊，膝蓋微微曲著。我們甚至可以沿著他的身體劃線，因為他一動不動地躺在那兒。于是，我們彎下腰看看他是不是還活著。當我們問他怎么樣時，他說了以下五個字：“窩掉到地上！”意思就是說：“我還是掉到地上了！”可憐的小家伙！但是，你別責怪我們。現在克里斯已經14歲了，他仍舊對這件事情喋喋不休。現在無論爬上哪棵樹，都是自己上，自己下。更奇怪的是，他長大了想當一名消防員。如今，他可以驕傲地說自己有攀高和接物的經驗。看吧，什么壞處也沒有呀……

美麗語錄

Rivers know this:there is no hurry,we shall get there some day.

河流懂得一個道理：無需匆忙，該到的地方總有一天會到達。

Proud of You　為你驕傲

◎Jerry Harpt

Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance.I have forgotten the name of an old lady,who was a customer on the paper route in my home town when I was a twelve-year-old boy.Yet it dwells in my memory that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I shall never forget.

On a winter afternoon,a friend and I were throwing stones onto the slanted roof of the old lady's house from a spot near her backyard.The object of our play was to observe how the stones changed to missiles as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky.I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and threw it out.The stone was too smooth,however,so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight not for the roof but for a small window on the old lady's back porch.At the sound of fractured glass,we knew we were in trouble.We turned tail and ran faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.

I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken window in winter.However,a few days later,when I was sure that I hadn't been discovered,I started to feel guilty for her misfortune.She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper,but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.

I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money,and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window.I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.

I waited until it was dark,snuck up to the old lady's house,and put the letter I didn't sign through the letter slot in her door.My soul felt redeemed and I could have the freedom of,once again,looking straight into the old lady's kind eyes.

The next day,I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I was receiving from her.She thanked me for the paper and gave me a bag of cookies she had made herself.I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.

After several cookies,I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag.When I opened the envelope,I was stunned.Inside were the seven dollars and a short note that said,"I'm proud of you."

記住一個僅是認識的人的名字，43年似乎是段很長的時間。我已經忘了那位老婦人的名字，她是我12歲那年在家鄉送報歷程中的一位顧客。然而，我永遠都不會忘記，她曾給我上的那堂關于“寬恕”的課。

一個冬日的下午，我和一個朋友在老太太家附近的一個后院，往她家的斜屋頂上扔石子玩。我們游戲的目的就是觀察這些石子如何變成一顆導彈，從屋頂的邊緣瞬間滾落到河岸，像滑過天空的彗星那樣射入院中。我找到了一顆十分光滑的石子，然后扔了出去。但是，這顆石子太光滑了，以至于在出手的一剎那偏離了方向。它沒有落在屋頂上，反而直接擊中了老太太屋后門廊上的一扇小窗戶。聽到玻璃的破碎聲，我們知道自己闖禍了。我們掉頭就跑，跑得比任何一顆從她屋頂上發射的導彈都要快。

那天晚上，我太害怕被抓住，沒有考慮到被打碎的窗戶在寒冷的冬天會給老太太帶來什么麻煩。然而，幾天之后，當我確認沒被人發現時，就開始對給她帶來的不幸感到內疚了。每天我給她送報紙時，她仍然笑瞇瞇地迎接我。但是，在她面前，我再也無法像過去那樣自由自在了。

我自己下定主意，決定把送報掙的錢攢起來。三周后，我便有了7美元。我估計這大概夠賠償她的窗戶了。我把錢放進一個信封，并附上一張便條，解釋說我十分抱歉打破了她家的窗戶，希望這7美元足夠賠付她修理窗戶的費用。

我一直等到天黑，才悄悄溜進老太太的家，把這封沒有署名的信從信箱口投了進去。做完這件事情后，我感到自己的靈魂似乎得到了解脫，重新獲得了自由，我能夠再次無拘無束地直視老太太親切的目光了。

第二天，當老太太微笑著從我手上接過報紙時，我也向她回報了一個溫暖的微笑。她對我的送報工作表示感謝，送了我一袋她親手做的甜餅。謝過她后，我一邊吃著曲奇餅，一邊繼續給別的客戶送報紙。

吃了幾塊餅干后，我摸到了一個信封，就把它從袋子里拽了出來。當我打開信封時，我愣住了。信封里有7美元，還有一張紙條，上面寫道：“我為你感到驕傲。”

美麗語錄

I can't choose how I feel,but I can choose what I do about it.

我無法選擇我的感受，但我可以選擇要怎樣去做。

Somewhere a Room of One's Own　我的小天地

◎Susan Branch

My room at home was too small for me.I barely had room for all the little knickknacks I'd collected over the years.There were so many things I had to pack away in boxes and store in closets all over the house.Oftentimes I didn't quite remember exactly where everything was.

There were all the notes my girlfriends and I passed throughout junior high,along with all the goofy poems my first boyfriend paid his friends to write and passed along to me as his originals.I also had a separate box for rose petals collected from past birthdays,Valentine's Days,anniversaries,and proms.I kept all my pictures in neatly organized albums on the bottom shelf of my bookcase.I had jewelry that I never wore but I thought I might someday need stashed away all over my room.I also saved birthday and Christmas cards,leaves that had fallen from the trees the previous fall,and medals I won for participating in piano recitals.On another shelf of my bookcase I even had a brick I found on the playground at my elementary school.

I'm not exactly sure why I saved everything,but I have some sort of idea.I never wanted to forget the great times I'd had growing up.I always feared I'd become one of those adults who couldn't relate to children because they simply couldn't remember having been children themselves.I wanted to remember the flowers my brother gave me when no other boy would.I wanted to someday look back at pictures of my first trip to Panama City.For some strange reason,I wanted to remember the day my playmates and I found that broken brick on the playground and thought our school was being broken into.

So I kept my life stored away in my bedroom,tucked neatly into boxes,stacked high up in my closet,on display on my bookcases,stashed discreetly away in my underwear drawer in hopes I'd never forget anything.I loved my room because it was all about me.I didn't have to share it with anyone else.My memories didn't have to mingle with a sibling's or roommate's.My room at home was just that...my room,full of my things.

Now that I'm away from home,enrolled in college,and sharing ten cubic feet with another girl,my old bedroom doesn't seem so small.I try my hardest to make my half of the room personal to me,but in a space so small,that proves almost impossible.Occasionally her books will find their way to my half of the desk,or her shoes will be near my closet.Sometimes crumbs from the crackers she's eating litter my half of the carpet,and every so often,her hair brush begins to hang around with mine.

I don't have room for all the little memories I cherish.I only brought a handful of pictures from home,left behind all my yearbooks,as well as my dried flowers and"who loves who"notes.Perhaps the worst part about the whole ordeal is that I don't have room to start any new collections.The threat is there that I won't have anything to remind me of my college years.That's a really scary thought for me.This place where I sleep and study isn't my room.It's just a room.

404 South Carrick Hall is just a place to sleep,study,and watch my roommate watch TV.It's filled with textbooks,CD-ROMs,and dishes...things that aren't supposed to be in a bedroom.There's only room for one stuffed animal and three posters which have a hard time staying on brico-block walls.I hate the fact that there's a microwave and refrigerator in the room where I sleep,and I hate that I'm responsible for filling them.

Maybe even worse than my new room's lack of personality is the lack of privacy it offers.Occasionally,and especially during home-coming,my roommate comes in after I've gone to sleep.She doesn't mean to wake me up,but when she starts her nightly contact-removal ritual,I can't help but hear what seems like thousands of different cleaning solution bottles bumping around the sink.I've been known to bother her too.During the day when I'm trying to study,my typing interferes with her enjoyment of"The Loveboat","Days of Our Lives",and"Another World".

My roommate is not the only one who deprives me of privacy and makes 404 a room that is not really my own.The girls next door to me see me as a back-up grammar check when their computers don't catch every mistake.I can't lock them out because it's not my room to lock.I can't say"Go away",because they've gotten to be really good friends and I can't be rude to people I care about.

The lack of privacy thing really bothers me.Not only do I live in a room that acts as a bedroom,study,kitchen,living room,and bathroom,I don't even get to be miserable in it by myself.Sometimes misery does not love company.Rather,it is created by company.If I can't decorate my room to my liking,I should at least be able to suffer in it alone.But dormitories are not for being alone—I've been told—they're about learning to get along with others.(Maybe I'll see the positive results of this nightmare when I'm giving advice to my own children when they begin college,but for the moment,I'm completely oblivious to them.)

There is some good news,however.Though she annoys me to no end,sometimes my roommate is just the person I want to see.I didn't get to know her habits so well without her taking in a few of mine.She oftentimes knows what I'm going to say even before I do,and most of the time she knows exactly when not to say anything to me at all.She's friend as well as foe,and I'd probably miss her if she left.The same sentiments apply to my neighbors.It's really quite flattering that they,even if somewhat mistakenly,consider me some sort of grammar goddess.

And perhaps most important is the next thought.While I don't live in a room that's completely mine anymore,and probably won't ever again,I do find comfort in the knowledge that somewhere there's a pink,green,and white bedroom with a brick on the bookshelf,a diary in the underwear drawer,and an air of privacy that belongs strictly to me.It may not be my room as often as I'd like,but it will wait for me,just like I sit and wait for it.

對我來說，我的房間太小了。我幾乎沒有多余的空間放置那些多年收集的小玩意兒。我有太多的東西需要裝箱，需要藏進家里的各個壁櫥里。我時常想不起那些東西究竟放在哪兒。

那些東西包括：初中時期我和好姐妹們的點點滴滴；初戀男友寫給我的那些青澀的情詩（其實是他花錢請朋友寫的）。我還有另外一個箱子，專門用來放置過去的生日會、情人節、周年紀念日以及舞會上收到的薔薇花。我的相冊就整齊地擺放在書架的最底層。我有珠寶首飾，但我從來都不戴。可是會有那么一天，為了找尋它們，我會翻遍整個房間。我也會收藏生日卡和圣誕卡，早秋時節從樹上飄落的葉子，還有我在鋼琴比賽上獲得的那些獎杯。甚至在我的書架上，還有一個位置是專屬于那塊從小學里撿來的磚塊。

其實我并不確定自己為什么要收藏這些東西。然而，一些想法始終縈繞著我。也許我不愿忘卻成長過程中經歷的那些歡樂時光。我生怕自己會和那些大人一樣，他們無法親近孩子，只因他們早已忘記自己曾經也是孩子。我想記住：沒有男生送花給我的時候，是哥哥送花給我。我想在某一天，看著照片回憶自己第一次去巴拿馬旅行的點點滴滴。也許有一些奇怪的原因，我想記住我跟玩伴在操場上發現那塊破磚塊的日子。那時的我們還天真地以為學校也會裂成碎片。

所以，我將我的生活封存在我的臥室里：它們整齊地擺放在盒子里；它們高高地疊放在衣櫥里；它們陳列在我的書架上；它們被我偷偷地藏在那個用來收納內衣的抽屜里，這樣我就不會忘記了。我愛我的房間，只因它的一切都與我有關。我不必和他人共享這一切。我的回憶也不會和兄弟姐妹或者室友的回憶糾纏不清。我的房間就是……我的房間，滿滿的都是屬于我的東西。

也許是離開了家，踏進了大學校園，還要和另一個女孩共用一個十平米大的房間。我突然覺得家里的那間臥室也不是很小了。我盡了最大的努力讓一半的房間只屬于我。然而，如此狹小的空間里，我的想法根本無法實現。她的書本偶爾也會在我的桌面上出現，或者她的鞋子就擺在我的衣櫥前面。有時我的毯子上稀稀疏疏滿是她吃餅干時掉下的碎屑。她的梳子也常常到我梳子的“地盤”上瞎逛。

這樣，我珍愛的那些記憶便無處“安身”了。我只帶了一些照片，把我所有的畢業紀念冊、干花以及那些寫著“誰喜歡誰”的短箋留在了家里。也許最慘痛的事情莫過于沒有空間開始我的新收藏了。恐怖的是我的大學生活將無從回憶。這對我來說太可怕了。我睡覺學習的地方并不專屬于我，它只是一個房間而已。

卡里克大廳南區404號房僅僅只是一個學習睡覺的地方。當然，我還可以在那靜靜地看著我的室友看電視。房間里堆滿了教科書、CD和飯盒……這些東西本不該出現在臥室里。這里只能容下一個吃飽的人和三張從墻上剝落的海報。我討厭睡覺的房間里還有微波爐和冰箱。更可惡的是我還要負責“喂飽”它們。

新房間缺少個性不說，更糟糕的是它沒有任何隱私可言。有些時候，特別是該睡覺的時候，室友會在我睡下之后推門進來。我知道她不是故意要把我吵醒。可當她開始那一連串的睡前動作時，我的耳朵便不聽使喚了，我仿佛聽到了水池旁傳來成千上萬個洗面奶瓶子互相撞擊的聲音。當然，我知道自己也曾打擾過她。正當我想學習的時候，打字的聲音卻妨礙她欣賞那些美妙的音樂，像《愛之船》、《我們的日子》和《另一個世界》。

室友并不是唯一一個會奪走我的隱私，并把404變成不屬于我的房間的人。住在隔壁的女孩們，她們把我看成備用的語法拼音檢查機，因為電腦無法找出每一個錯誤。我無法上鎖，只因它不是我一個人的房間。我不能說“走開”，只因她們早已成為我的好友，再說我也無法無禮對待我在乎的人。

隱私的缺失的確讓我很懊惱。我所生活的房間不僅是臥室，也是書房、廚房、客廳和浴室。待在里面，我甚至無法悲傷。有時悲傷不喜歡同伴，但卻源自同伴。如果我無法隨心所欲地裝扮我的房間，至少我可以享受孤獨。可宿舍不是為了孤獨而存在的，這我早就知道，宿舍里的人們需要學會與人共處。（多年之后給剛剛踏入大學的子女們提意見時，也許我會記起這個“噩夢”給我帶來的那些好處。可是當下，我什么都不愿記住。）

然而，偶爾也會有好的一面。雖然她的吵鬧永無止境，可有時她正是那個我想見到的人。我不如她了解我那樣了解她。她常常知道我想說卻還未說出口的話，而且她也知道什么時候應該閉嘴。她是朋友，也是敵人。如果她離開了，我一定會想她。對于隔壁的女孩們，我有著同樣的情感。她們把我當作語法糾錯女神確實有點阿諛奉承的意思。

也許最重要的是那些緊隨其后的想法。然而，我再也不愿住進一間完全不屬于我的房間里，而且我再也不會那樣做。我終于懂得住在一間粉色、綠色和白色漆成的房間里是多么幸福！房間書架上擺放著一塊磚頭，收納內衣的抽屜里藏著一本日記，還有那份完全屬于我的私人空間。它也許不是我所喜歡的房間，但是它就在那兒安靜地等著我，就像我也會靜靜地坐在那兒等著它一樣。

美麗語錄

I like to present myself.I miss our past.

我喜歡現在的自己，我懷念過去的我們。