I wish I were a kid,because skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts.

我多希望自己還是個孩子，因為擦破皮的膝蓋比傷透的心更容易愈合。

A Promise of Spring　春天的承諾

◎Kathy England

Early in the spring,about a month before my grandpa's stroke,I began walking for an hour every afternoon.Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa.At eighty-six,Grandpa was still quite a gardener,so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.

I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was eager to get Grandpa's advice.I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted—a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.

It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden blaze of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke.It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side.The whole family rallied to Grandpa.We all spent many hours by his side.Some days his eyes were eloquent—laughing at our reported mishaps,listening alertly,revealing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself.There were days,too,when he slept most of the time,overcome with the weight of his approaching death.

As the months passed,I watched the growing earth with Grandpa's eyes.Each time I was with him,I gave him a garden report.He listened,gripping my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had.But he could not answer my questions.The new flowers would blaze,peak,fade,and die before I knew their names.

Grandpa's illness held him through the spring and on,week by week,through summer.I began spending hours at the local nursery,studying and choosing seeds and plants.It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa's garden and give them humble starts in my own garden.I discovered Sweet William,which I had admired for years in Grandpa's garden without knowing its name.And I planted it in his honor.

As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa's side,some quiet truths emerged.I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that were always bloom;he kept a full bed of roses in his garden.But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights.Not every nook of his garden was constantly in bloom.There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.

I came to see,too,that Grandpa's garden mirrored his life.He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest.But along with his hard work,Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season,each change.We often teased him about his life history.He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work,and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he'd ever taken.

In July,Grandpa worsened.One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside.He was glad to have me there,and reached out his hand to pull me close.

I told Grandpa what I had learned—that few flowers last from April to November.Some of the most beautiful bloom for only a month at most.To really enjoy a garden,you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden,each in its own season.

His eyes listened to every word.Then,another discovery:"If I want a garden like yours,Grandpa,I'm going to have to work."His grin laughed at me,and his eyes teased me.

"Grandpa,in your life right now the chrysanthemums are in bloom.Chrysanthemums and roses."Tears clouded both our eyes.Neither of us feared this last flower of fall,but the wait for spring seems longest in November.We knew how much we would miss each other.

Sitting there,I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony inside both of us.He had never spoken of his testimony to me,but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew.I knew he knew.

"Grandpa,"I began—and his grip tightened as if he knew what I was going to say—"I want you to know that I have a testimony.I know the Savior lives.I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet.I love the Restoration and joy in it."The steadiness in Grandpa's eyes told how much he felt it too."I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet.I know the Book of Mormon is true,Grandpa.Every part of me bears this witness."

"Grandpa,"I added quietly,"I know our Father in Heaven loves you."Unbidden,unexpected,the Spirit bore comforting,poignant testimony to me of our Father's love for my humble,quiet Grandpa.

A tangible sense of Heavenly Father's compassionate awareness of Grandpa's suffering surrounded us and held us.It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me—only tears of gratitude and humility,tears of comfort.

Grandpa and I wept together.

It was the end of August when Grandpa died,the end of summer.As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa's funeral,I slipped away to Grandpa's garden and walked with my memories of columbine and Sweet William.Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now,and some baby's breath in another corner.

On impulse,I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby's breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral.When they saw it,friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa's flowers there.We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.

The October after Grandpa's death,I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs,snowdrops,crocuses,and bluebells.Each bulb was a comfort to me,a love sent to Grandpa,a promise of spring.

早春時節，也就是爺爺中風前的一個月，我開始每天下午散步一小時。有時，我會步行向南走過四條街去探望爺爺奶奶。爺爺86歲了，可還是一個杰出的花匠。所以，我常常觀察他種的最早盛開的花，還有春日里的一片片花海。

那年，我打算好好整理一下自己的小花園，所以對花特別感興趣，希望爺爺能給我一些建議。我以為自己清楚究竟想要什么——滿院子的花草樹木，一直從5月開到11月。

那年春天，就是在草叢中的第一株紫羅蘭和連翹出現后，爺爺得了中風。他沒法開口說話了，左半邊身體也無法動彈。家里所有人都來看望爺爺。我們都花了好幾個小時陪在他身邊。有幾天，他的眼睛炯炯有神的——笑著聽我們說不幸的事，聽的時候表情十分機警。他表示自己不能自理，心里感覺很痛苦。也有些時候，他一整天都處于昏昏欲睡的狀態，體重也在增加，好像隨時都會有危險。

時間過得很快，幾個月過去了，我就像爺爺那樣望著地里長出來的東西。每次我和他待在一起的時候，都要向他匯報花園里的情況。他一邊聽著，一邊用和往常一樣的力氣緊緊握著我的手。可他無法回答我的問題。因此，很多綻放、憔悴、凋謝和死亡的花，我甚至都不知道它們的名字。

爺爺的疾病從春季開始就一直折磨著他，一直持續到夏季。我開始在當地的花圃里幫忙，學習選種和種植。我買了一些曾在爺爺花園里見過的植物，并悉心把它們種在我自己的花園里，這對我來說就是一件樂事。我在爺爺的花園里發現了我十分喜歡的美洲石竹，在這之前我并不知道它的名字。現在，我將它種在自己的花園里，以表示對爺爺的敬意。

當我守在爺爺身邊、望著花園的時候，真理不斷在我眼前涌現。我意識到爺爺喜歡盛開的花朵。在他的花園里，他種了整整一片玫瑰。可我也注意到，爺爺留了好多空地，只是為了讓光線照進來。爺爺花園里并不是每一個角落都有盛開的鮮花。但驚喜總會一個接一個的從那兒冒出來。

我也發現，爺爺的花園就像一面鏡子，映照著他的一生。他一生勤勤懇懇，因為他懂得“一份耕耘，一份收獲”的道理。可他除了懂得辛勤勞作，他也懂得享受四季的變遷。我們常常拿他的生活史開玩笑。他寫了兩段文章以總結他50年的工作，另外還有九頁紙寫著關于他的旅游經歷。

7月的時候，爺爺的病情惡化了。一個炎熱的中午，沒有人陪在他身邊。只有我在，他很高興，于是伸出手把我抱得緊緊的。

我把所學到的東西告訴爺爺——很少有花能從4月開到11月。那些最美的花最長也只能開一個多月。想要真正欣賞花園里的美景，你必須在每個角落里種上鮮花。朵朵盛開的花把花園裝扮得更加美麗了，每朵花都有屬于自己的季節。

他的眼睛仿佛也在認真聽著我說的每個字。然后，我又有了一個新發現：“爺爺，如果我想讓我的花園變得跟你的花園一樣，我必須辛勤勞作。”他咧開嘴對我笑著，連他的眼睛都在嘲笑我。

“爺爺，菊花開了，菊花和玫瑰花都開了。”我們的眼眶里噙滿淚水。我們不怕最后一朵花的凋零。可從11月就開始等待春天，好像有點漫長。我們會想念彼此的。

靜靜地坐在那，我突然想到自己能給爺爺的最好禮物——說出我們之間的承諾。他從未跟我提過他的承諾，可我從來沒有懷疑過那就是他生活的一部分，這一點爺爺是知道的。他所知道的我都知道。

“爺爺，”我開始說——可他的雙唇緊閉，仿佛知道我想說什么——“我想告訴你，我有一個承諾。我知道救世主是存在的。我向你保證，約瑟夫·史密斯是一位預言家。我喜歡王政復辟時代和那個時代的趣事。”爺爺堅定的眼神告訴我，他也深有同感。“我向你保證金博爾總統是一位預言家。爺爺，我知道《摩門經》是真的。我用自己做擔保。”

“爺爺，”我輕聲補充道，“我知道上帝是愛你的。”我為一生謙遜、平靜的爺爺許下這個承諾。對我而言，這是一個未經允許、突如其來的承諾。它令人欣慰又讓人心碎。

上帝十分同情爺爺的遭遇——這個想法一直圍繞并支撐著我們。這個自我意識的力量強大得讓我無法用言語形容——我只能用感激之淚、謙恭之淚、寬慰之淚來表達。

我和爺爺相擁而泣。

8月底，夏末之際，爺爺去世了。當大家在花農那兒為爺爺的葬禮挑選葬花時，我偷偷跑到爺爺的花園里。我一邊走一邊回憶著耬斗菜和美洲石竹。如今花園里只有薰衣草、白色夾竹桃和另一個角落里綻放的滿天星。

一時心血來潮，我摘下幾朵最美的夾竹桃和滿天星，為爺爺的葬禮增添一份新的裝扮。親朋好友看到這些花時，他們都笑了，因為他們看到了爺爺親手種的花。我們都覺得爺爺一定會很喜歡那些花。

爺爺走后的10月，我種下了郁金香、水仙、雪蓮花、番紅花和藍鈴花。在我眼中，每一朵含苞待放的花就是一份安慰，就是一份送給爺爺的愛，就是一份春天的承諾。

美麗語錄

Family,there is nothing more important.They're the ones who show up when we're in trouble,the ones who push us to succeed,the ones who help keep our secrets.

家人，這世上最珍貴的風景。困難時他們突然出現；有意無意時他們助推成功；守護秘密時他們相依為伴。

The Thread of Permanence　永恒之脈

◎William Zorach

It is strange how certain things make a great impression on us in childhood.I remember these verses by Longfellow:

"Life is real!Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art,to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul."

And again:

"Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And departing,leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time."

Of course,my generation was much more sentimental than today's youth but whether this was great poetry,it communicated in simple language a message,and made a lasting impression on a small boy.

When I was fifteen I had an imaginary guardian angel and when I went to the country to sketch on Sundays,I asked for guidance,praying that someday I would be a fine artist and paint nature as beautiful as she really is.What this little ceremony brought me was faith in the world and a belief in myself.

My faiths and beliefs have been badly strained.The Atomic Age has caught us in a web of fear.Our lives seem so impermanent and uncertain.There is such a waste of human potential,of things worth while in people which never find expression.I sometimes think it's a miracle that anything survives.Yet I believe that a thread of permanence runs through everything from the beginning of time,and the most valuable residue will survive.

I believe everybody has an urge to somehow spin his own life into a thread of permanence.It is the impulse of life.Some would call it the drive to immortality.Whatever it is,I think it is good because it gives purpose to existence.But purpose is not enough.Artists are supposed to be notoriously impractical,but for myself,I found I had to make decisions and plans if I were to try to create anything.I realized that I must approach life not only with a sensitivity,a perception of beauty,but with a feeling of humility and reverence.

My creed as an artist is to love life and liberty and the world of people.A man who works and loves his work is often a man dreaming,and the spirit of his dreams will find forms and symbols to express that dream.It is a wonderful feeling to create something.But today,I think there is a lack of power of communication.If people,not just artists,but all kinds of people,could only open their hearts and express their sorrow,their happiness,their fears and hopes,they would discover they had an identity with the main stream of life which they never saw before.

Sometimes fear and cynicism so grip our minds that we lose heart.Then I try to remember how the great artists of the ages had the power of expressiveness.Theirs was the power to communicate,to exalt,to move the observer to joy or tears,to strike terror and awe in the hearts of men;not just to decorate or merely entertain.

If we can expand the boundaries of men's thoughts and beliefs,we will discover we all have creative possibilities—talents to make ourselves real identities as individuals,with a hold on the thread of immortality.If we can awaken ourselves to it,I am convinced we shall find that this is an alive and exciting age of adventure and experimentation from which a new beauty and a finer world will emerge.

奇怪的是，童年的某些事情總會給我們留下深刻的印象。我記得朗費羅的一首詩：

“真實又真誠的生活啊！

最終的歸宿絕不會是墳墓；

你本是塵土，必將回歸塵土，

這并非指你的靈魂。”

詩中還說：

“偉人的一生提醒我們

我們能讓生活變得高尚，

并在逝去的時候

在時間的沙灘上留下腳印。”

當然，我們這代人遠比現在的年輕一代來得多愁善感。但不管這首詩是不是上乘之作，它都用簡樸的語言傳遞一個道理，在一個小男孩的腦海中留下不可磨滅的印象。

我15歲時，心中住著一位守護天使。每當周日去鄉間寫生時，她就成了我的向導。我祈禱自己有朝一日能成為一個偉大的藝術家，畫出真正的自然美景。這些祈禱讓我更加堅信世界、堅信自己。

我的信仰和信心正面臨著挑戰。原子時代讓我們陷入一陣恐慌。我們的生活變得無常、多變。人類的潛力、人性的閃光點找不到施展的舞臺，只能白白浪費。我有時想，世間萬物能夠存在簡直就是一種奇跡。然而，我堅信永恒之脈貫穿世間萬物，最寶貴的遺產將會永存。

我相信，每個人都渴望匯入這個永恒之脈。這是生活的沖動。有些人稱之為生命的動力。不管它是什么，我相信它是一種積極向上的東西，它讓我們有了生存的目的。可只有目的是不夠的。藝術家總被認為是不切實際的。但是對我而言，任何藝術創作都是誕生在我的決定和安排之后。我意識到，在生活面前，光有敏感和對美好事物的感知是遠遠不夠的，還需要一顆謙卑的心。

作為一名藝術家，我的宗旨是：愛生活、愛自由、愛世人。一個懂得干一行愛一行的人通常都是有夢想的人，而他的夢想也會通過一種形式和符號表達出來。創作是一種美妙絕倫的經歷。可我認為，如今缺少的是一種溝通的能力。如果所有人，而不僅僅是藝術家，都愿意敞開心扉訴說各自的傷悲、幸福、眼淚和希望，就會發現自己已然匯入生活這條大河，這是他們以前從未見過的。

偶爾的恐懼和嘲諷也會讓人失去信心。那么，我會拼命回想古往今來那些偉大的藝術家是如何擁有非凡的表現力。他們的表現力能與人溝通，催人奮進，是一股讓旁聽者或喜或悲、或怕或敬的力量，而不只是一種擺設和消遣。

如果我們能擴大視野、拓寬思路，我們會發現每個人都有創作的天分。它賦予了每個生命不同的個性。它讓每個人在永恒之脈上占有一席之地。如果我們喚醒心中的它，我敢肯定我們將生活在一個活力四射、驚險刺激而又充滿革新精神的時代里。它將引領我們走向更美好的世界。

美麗語錄

The presence of God of luck is always brought by your glimpse,reconsideration and a forward step.

幸運之神的降臨，往往只是因為你多看了一眼，多想了一下，多走了一步。

The Child's Guardian Angel　孩子的守護天使

◎Erma Bombeck

Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born.So one day he asked God,"They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"

God replied,"Among the many angels,I chose one for you.She will be waiting for you and will take care of you."

But the child wasn't sure he really wanted to go."But tell me,here in Heaven,I don't do anything else but sing and smile,that's enough for me to be happy."

"Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day.And you will feel your angel's love and be happy."

"And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me,"the child continued,"if I don't know the language that men talk?"

God patted him on the head and said,"Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear,and with much patience and care,your angel will teach you how to speak."

"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"

But God had an answer for that question too."Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."

"I've heard that on earth there are bad men,who will protect me?"

"Your angel will defend you even if it means risking her life!"

"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore,"the child continued warily.

God smiled on the young one."Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me,even though I will always be next to you."

At that moment there was much peace in Heaven,but voices from earth could already be heard.The child knew he had to start on his journey very soon.He asked God one more question,softly,"Oh God,if I am about to leave now,please tell me my angel's name."

God touched the child on the shoulder and answered,"Your angel's name is not hard to remember.You will simply call her Mommy."

從前，有個孩子就要出生了。有一天，他問上帝：“他們對我說，你明天就要把我送到人間了。可是，我這么弱小和無助，怎么在那兒生活呢？”

上帝回答道：“我從眾多天使中為你挑選了一位，她會守在你身邊、照顧你。”

可小孩不敢確定自己是不是真的想去。“可是在天堂里，就算我什么事情都不做，只是唱唱笑笑，我就很開心了。”

“你的天使每天都會為你唱歌，為你微笑。你能感受到天使對你的愛。你會很幸福的。”

“那我怎樣才能聽懂人類對我說的話呢？”孩子繼續問道，“萬一我聽不懂人類的語言怎么辦？”

上帝拍了拍孩子的頭，說道：“你的天使會用你從未聽過的、最美麗、最動聽的語言跟你說話。她還會耐心地教你說話。”

“如果我想和你說話怎么辦？”

對于這個問題，上帝心中早已有了答案：“你的天使會將你的雙手合攏，教你如何禱告。”

“我聽說人間有壞人，那誰來保護我呢？”

“你的天使會保護你，哪怕獻出她的生命。”

“可我再也見不到你了，那樣我會難過。”孩子小心翼翼地說道。

上帝朝小孩笑了笑，說道：“盡管你我近在咫尺，你的天使還會經常提起我，并教你如何回到我的身邊。”

這時，平靜的天堂傳來了人間的聲音。小孩知道自己該啟程了。于是，他又輕輕地問了一個問題：“噢，上帝！我就要走了，請你告訴我，我的天使叫什么名字。”

上帝拍了拍孩子的肩膀，答道：“你的天使有個很好記的名字。你就叫她——媽媽。”

美麗語錄

Where we love is home,home that our feet may leave,but not our hearts.

家是我們所愛的地方，雙腳可以離開，心卻不能。

A Beautiful Memory　美好的回憶

◎Michelle

Err...the loveliest house that I've ever lived in was one that I lived in with my grandparents when I was a child.And the name of the house was Crosslands.And I have some very happy memories of Crosslands.It was,it seemed,so huge to me as a child.And it had a lovely living room with a piano in it and a lovely sort of hall with lots of carpets and chests and antiques and so on.And there was a mysterious room,it was the drawing room,and we only used it on Sundays,or when the vicar came for tea,or Christmas Day or Easter Day,and I was used to be amazed about this room because it had the best furniture in it but it was covered up with sheets—it was as if all the furniture was wearing clothes—and it seemed to me ridiculous that we couldn't enjoy this beautiful furniture all the week through really.

And probably my favorite room was the kitchen.It had a lovely red flagstone floor,which was always highly polished,and an Aga,you know,one of those big cookers that heats the whole room so it was always warm there,and there was a kind of clothes horse above it that we used to hang all our clothes on,and it was just lovely.It was a very warm room with baked bread and my grandmother used to make ice cream and we'd eat it in there and...there was a vegetable garden leading from there so I spent a lot of time in the vegetable garden picking peas and eating them—my grandmother used to get really cross with me because I used to pick all the vegetables and the fruit for our meals and then I'd eat half of them,because they tasted so delicious coming fresh from the garden.

Now,I went back to it a few years ago and it was a big mistake.They've modernized it inside,they've got rid of those lovely old fire-places...have just gone.And they've knocked a wall down so the drawing room and the living room have become one big modern plastic kind of room.

But I think what upset me most about it was the feeling that the house had shrunk,it had become smaller and that my memory of this lovely large warm comfortable house had turned into an old house with modernized rooms inside it.And it taught me a lesson really,that you can't go back on the past and recapture it.But there's a beautiful memory there.

呃……我住過的最可愛的房子，要數小時候和爺爺奶奶一起住的那座房子了。那座房子名叫克羅斯蘭。它給了我許多美好的回憶。在兒時的我眼中，它是那樣的高大。可愛的起居室里放著一架鋼琴。漂亮的大廳里放著地毯、柜子和古董等許多東西。那個充滿神秘氣息的房間就是會客廳了。只有周日、牧師來喝茶、圣誕節或復活節的時候，我們才能用它。那時候，我一直覺得這個房間很奇怪，那里面放著最好的家具，可總是蓋著床單——就像所有的家具都穿著衣服一樣。更可笑的是，這么精美的家具，我們卻不曾連續使用超過一周時間。

我最喜歡的房間也許就是廚房了。討喜的紅色石地板總是被擦得亮亮的。廚房里有一個大壁爐，把房間烤得暖和極了。壁爐上有一個衣架，我們用它掛衣服，真是合適又美觀。這個溫暖的房間里正烤著面包呢！奶奶有時也會自己制作冰激凌，我們就在這里吃……廚房望出去是一片菜園，我經常在那兒摘豌豆吃。我曾摘光花園里的所有蔬菜瓜果，做好飯菜后我吃掉了一大半，因為這些蔬菜瓜果實在太新鮮了。奶奶就因為這件事，真的生氣了。

如今，當我再次回到這里時，我發現他們犯了一個大錯——房內被裝修得極富現代氣息。那些可愛的老壁爐都已經被拆掉——都不存在了。會客廳和起居室之間的墻也被拆了，成了一個很大、很現代化的可塑型房間。

可最讓我傷心的是，我感到房子好像變小了。它變得越來越小，我記憶中的這個漂亮、寬敞、溫暖舒適的房子，成了一座房間裝修很現代的老房子。它讓我明白了一個道理：你無法回到過去，也無法重新抓住逝去的美好。不過，老房子給你的美好回憶還在！

美麗語錄

You cannot appreciate happiness unless you have known sadness too.

不知道什么是憂傷，就不會真正感激幸福。

The Boy and the Tree　男孩和蘋果樹

◎Sarfaraz Amani

A long time ago,there was a huge tree.A little boy loved to come and play around it every day.He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him.

Time went by...The little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree.

One day,the boy returned and the tree was so excited."Come and play with me,"The tree said."I don't have time to play.I have to work for my family.We need a house for a shelter.Can you help me?""Sorry,but I don't have a house.But you can cut off my branches to build your house."So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily.The tree was glad to see him happy,but the boy didn't appear since then.

The tree was lonely and sad.One hot summer day,the boy returned and the tree was delighted."Come and play with me!"the tree said."I am sad and getting old.I want to go sailing to relax myself.Can you give me a boat?""Use my trunk to build the boat.You can sail and be happy."So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat.He went sailing and did not show up for a long time.

Finally,the boy returned after he left for so many years."Sorry,my boy,but I don't have anything for you anymore.The only thing left is my dying roots."The tree said with tears."I don't need much now,just a place to rest.I am tired after all these years."The boy replied."Good!Old tree roots are the best place to lean on and rest.Come here,please sit down with me and have a rest."The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.

This is a story of everyone.The tree is our parent.When we were young,we loved to play with Mom and Dad...When we grow up,we leave them,and only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble.No matter what,parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy.You may think that the boy is cruel to the tree but that's how all of us are treating our parents.

很久以前，有一棵巨大的樹。一個小男孩每天都喜歡來到樹旁玩耍。他愛這棵樹，樹也喜歡和他一起玩。

年華似水……小男孩長大了，他不再到樹旁玩耍了。

一天，男孩回來了，樹非常興奮。“來和我玩吧。”樹說。“我沒有時間玩。我得為我的家庭工作。我們需要一個房子來遮風擋雨，你能幫我嗎？”“很抱歉，我沒有房子。但是，你可以砍下我的樹枝來建房。”于是，男孩砍下所有的樹枝，高高興興地離開了。看到他高興，樹也很高興。但是，自從那時起，男孩就再也沒出現過。

樹非常悲傷，也很孤獨。突然，在一個炎熱的夏日，男孩回到了樹旁，樹很高興。“來和我玩吧！”樹說。“我很傷心，我開始老了。我想去航海放松自己。你能不能給我一條船？”“用我的樹干去造一條船，你就能航海了，你會高興的。”于是，男孩砍倒樹干造了一條船。他航海去了，很長一段時間都沒有再露面。

許多年后，男孩終于回來了。“很抱歉，我的孩子，我再也沒有任何東西可以給你了。我唯一剩下的就是垂死的樹根。”樹含著淚說。“現在，我不需要什么了，只想找一個地方休息。這些年來我太累了。”男孩答道。“太好了！老樹根就是倚著休息最好的地方。過來，和我一起坐下休息吧。”男孩坐下了，樹高興地留下了眼淚。

這是發生在每一個人身上的故事。樹就是我們的父母。我們小的時候，喜歡和爸爸媽媽玩……當我們長大了，便離開他們，只有在我們需要父母，或是遇到麻煩的時候，才會回去找他們。盡管如此，父母卻總是有求必應，為了我們的幸福，無私地奉獻著自己的一切。你可能覺得那個男孩對樹很殘忍，但我們何嘗不是這樣呢？

美麗語錄

Respecting and honoring our parents are top priorities.

世界上最不能等的莫過于孝敬父母。

All I Really Need to Know　生命中不可錯過的智慧

◎Robert Fulghum

Most of what I really need

To know about how to live

And what to do and how to be

I learned in kindergarten.

Wisdom was not at the top

Of the graduate school mountain,

But there in the sandpile at Sunday school.

These are the things I learned:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don't hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don't take things that aren't yours.

Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life—

Learn some and think some

And draw and paint and sing and dance

And play and work everyday some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world,

Watch out for traffic,

Hold hands and stick together.

Be aware of wonder.

那些不可錯過的

關于怎樣生活

應該做些什么和怎樣去做

我都是在上幼稚園時學到的。

智慧并不存在于

大學校園里那座象牙塔的頂端，

而是在幼稚園的沙堆上。

以下就是我在幼稚園學到的東西：

與人分享一切。

事事要公平。

不要欺負別人。

東西哪里拿的就放回哪里。

整理好自己弄亂的東西。

不要隨便拿走不屬于自己的東西。

傷害了別人要說對不起。

吃東西前要洗手。

害羞時會臉紅。

熱餅干和冰牛奶對你有好處。

生活要平衡——

每一天都要學習新東西，每一天都要動腦筋

畫畫，涂鴉，唱歌，跳舞

要懂得勞逸結合。

每天中午要小憩一會兒。

出門時

要小心車輛，

最好大家能手牽手一齊走。

因為這個世界是奇妙的。

美麗語錄

Do what makes you happy.Be with who makes you smile.Laugh as much as you breath.Love as long as you live.

做讓你開心的事，交能逗你樂的朋友，像呼吸一樣頻繁地開懷大笑，像生命一樣長久地全心去愛。

All Flowers are Beautiful　所有的花兒都美麗

◎Suzanne Chazin

I grew up in a small town where the elementary school was a ten-minute walk from my house and in an age,not so long ago,when children could go home for lunch and find their mothers waiting.

At the time,I did not consider this a luxury,although today it certainly would be.I took it for granted that mothers were the sandwich-makers,the finger-painting appreciators and the homework monitors.I never questioned that this ambitious,intelligent woman,who had had a career before I was born and would eventually return to a career,would spend almost every lunch hour throughout my elementary school years just with me.

I only knew that when the noon bell rang,I would race breathlessly home.My mother would be standing at the top of the stairs,smiling down at me with a look that suggested I was the only important thing she had on her mind.For this,I am forever grateful.

Some sounds bring it all back:the high-pitched squeal of my mother's teakettle,the rumble of the washing machine in the basement,the jangle of my dog's license tags as she bounded down the stairs to greet me.Our time together seemed devoid of the gerrymandered schedules that now pervade my life.

One lunch time when I was in the third grade will stay with me always.I had been picked to be the princess in the school play,and for weeks my mother had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me.But no matter how easily I delivered them at home,as soon as I stepped onstage,every word disappeared from my head.

Finally,my teacher took me aside.She explained that she had written a narrator's part to the play,and asked me to switch roles.Her words,kindly delivered,still stung,especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn't tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day.But she sensed my unease,and instead of suggesting we practice my lines,she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard.

It was a lovely spring day and the rose vine on the trellis was turning green.Under the huge elm trees,we could see yellow dandelions popping through the grass in bunches,as if a painter had touched our landscape with dabs of gold.

I watched my mother casually bend down by one of the clumps."I think I'm going to dig up all these weeds,"she said,yanking a blossom up by its roots."From now on,we'll have only roses in this garden."

"But I like dandelions,"I protested."All flowers are beautiful even dandelions."

My mother looked at me seriously."Yes,every flower gives pleasure in its own way,doesn't it?"She asked thoughtfully.I nodded,pleased that I had won her over."And that is true of people too,"she added."Not everyone can be a princess,but there is no shame in that."

Relieved that she had guessed my pain,I started to cry as I told her what had happened.She listened and smiled reassuringly.

"But you will be a beautiful narrator,"she said,reminding me of how much I loved to read stories aloud to her,"The narrator's part is every bit as important as the part of the princess."

Over the next few weeks,with her constant encouragement,I learned to take pride in the role.Lunchtimes were spent reading over my lines and talking about what I would wear.

Backstage the night of the performance,I felt nervous.A few minutes before the play,my teacher came over to me.Your mother asked me to give this to you,she said,handing me a dandelion.Its edges were already beginning to curl and it flopped lazily from its stem.But just looking at it,knowing my mother was out there and thinking of our lunchtime talk,made me proud.

After the play,I took home the flower I had stuffed in the apron of my costume.My mother pressed it between two sheets of paper toweling in a dictionary,laughing as she did it that we were perhaps the only people who would press such a sorry-looking weed.

I often look back on our lunchtimes together,bathed in the soft midday light.They were the commas in my childhood,the pauses that told me life is not savored in premeasured increments,but in the sum of daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with loved ones.

Over peanut-butter sandwiches and chocolate-chip cookies,I learned that love,first and foremost,means being there for the little things.

A few months ago,my mother came to visit.I took off a day from work and treated her to lunch.The restaurant bustled with noontime activity as businesspeople made deals and glanced at their watches.In the middle of all this sat my mother,now retired,and I.From her face I could see that she relished the pace of the work world.

"Mom,you must have been terribly bored staying at home when I was a child,"I said.

"Bored?Housework is boring.But you were never boring."

I didn't believe her so I pressed."Surely children are not as stimulating as a career."

"A career is stimulating,"she said."I'm glad I had one.But a career is like an open balloon.It remains inflated only as long as you keep pumping.A child is a seed.You water it.You care for it the best you can.And then it grows all by itself into a beautiful flower."

我在一個小鎮長大，從我家步行到我就讀的小學只要10分鐘。在那個時代，其實也就是不久前，孩子們可以回家吃午飯，媽媽會等著他們。

那時候，我并不覺得這有多奢侈，可如今，它的確成了一種奢望。我想當然地認為媽媽就該做三明治，就該欣賞手指畫，就該檢查家庭作業。我從未懷疑過：在我出生前，這個有抱負、有智慧的女人曾經有過一份事業，又將重新投身于另一份事業。可我上小學的那幾年，她幾乎每天都陪我吃午餐。

那時，我只知道中午放學的鈴聲一響，我就會氣喘吁吁地跑回家里。媽媽就站在樓梯上，笑容滿面地迎接我。這讓我覺得我在她心中是唯一重要的事情。為此，我永遠心存感激。

一些聲音總能將我拉回舊時：媽媽燒開水時水壺發出的又長又尖的聲音；地下室里洗衣機發出的隆隆聲；我的小狗下樓迎接我時脖子上那塊牌子發出的叮當聲。可現在的生活無法與以前相比了。如今，我的生活完全被各式各樣的行程表所操控著。

我讀三年級時的一次午餐時間，我將永生難忘。那時，我在學校的一部話劇中飾演公主。于是，那幾個星期媽媽都陪著我練習臺詞。可不管我在家背得多熟練，一上臺，那些臺詞就從我的腦海中消失了。

最后，我的老師把我叫到一旁，向我解釋說，她寫了一些旁白，要我換成旁白的角色。她說得很委婉，可還是傷害了我。尤其是當我看到另一個女孩取代我飾演公主時，我的心里難過極了。

那天中午回家吃飯時，我沒有把這件事告訴媽媽。可她察覺到了我的不安。于是，她沒有叫我接著練臺詞，而是問我想不想到院子里走走。

那是一個美好的春日，籬笆上的玫瑰藤都已慢慢變綠了。在那棵大榆樹下，我們看見一簇簇黃色的蒲公英從草叢中冒出來，就像一位畫家為我們的山水畫添上了一抹金黃。

我看見媽媽在一簇花草旁彎下腰來。“我想我應該把這些雜草全部拔掉。”她一邊說著，一邊連根拔起一簇盛開的花。“從今往后，我們的花園里只有玫瑰。”

“可我喜歡蒲公英，”我抗議道，“所有的花兒都美麗，即使是蒲公英。”

媽媽十分嚴肅地看著我。“是啊，每朵花都用自己的方式展示它的美，難道不是嗎？”她若有所思地問道。我點點頭，很高興自己說服了媽媽。“人也是一樣的，”她補充說道，“不是每個人都能成為公主，這沒什么可丟臉的。”

原來，她早就猜到了我的煩惱。我松了口氣，哭著把整件事情告訴了她。她一邊聽一邊微笑著安慰我。

“你會成為最美的旁白，”她說道，還提醒我以前我有多喜歡大聲給她朗讀故事，“旁白的部分和公主的角色一樣重要。”

接下來的幾個星期，在她的不斷鼓勵下，我慢慢為飾演旁白這個角色感到驕傲。至于午餐時間嘛，不是朗讀我的臺詞，就是討論表演時要穿什么服裝。

演出那天晚上，我在后臺感到十分緊張。表演開始前的幾分鐘，老師走到我身邊。“你的媽媽讓我把這個交給你。”她邊說邊遞給我一朵蒲公英。蒲公英的邊是卷的，整個花莖也都死氣沉沉。我匆匆瞥了一眼，知道媽媽就在外面。我想起午餐時候我們的談話，一股自豪感油然而生。

演出結束后，我把那朵蒲公英塞進演出服的口袋里帶回家。媽媽用兩張紙壓平它，然后夾進字典里。她笑著說：“這世上也許只有我們愿意把一棵毫不起眼的小草好好地夾起來。”

如今，沐浴在和煦的午后陽光里，我時常會想起我們一起度過的午餐時間。它們就像是我童年生活里的小逗號，這些停頓讓我懂得：生活的真正滋味并非來自于預先估好的增額，而是來自于和愛人共享的日常瑣事和小小快樂。

花生醬三明治和巧克力曲奇讓我懂得：愛，最原始的和最重要的，是關注那些微不足道的小事。

幾個月前，媽媽來看我。我請了一天假陪她吃午飯。午飯時餐館里擠滿了人，一群商人邊吃飯邊談生意，還時不時地瞄一眼腕上的手表。我和退休的媽媽就坐在這群人的中間。從她臉上，我能看出她很羨慕上班族的工作節奏。

“媽，我小的時候您在家照顧我，肯定很厭煩吧！”我說。

“厭煩？我是挺厭煩家務活的，可是你永遠不會讓我覺得厭煩。”

我不相信，于是接著說：“照顧孩子肯定不如工作那么具有挑戰性！”

“工作的確更有挑戰性，”她說，“我很開心我曾經有過一份工作。可是工作就像一個開口氣球，只有不斷吹氣才能讓它變大。但是孩子像一粒種子，只要你給它澆水，細心照料它，它就會自己長大，變成一朵美麗的花兒。”

All or nothing,now or never.

寧為玉碎，不為瓦全。機不可失，失不再來。