第4章 那些蓬勃的朝气
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?
童年时代所拥有的那些朝气蓬勃的精神，轻松愉快的心情，对爱和信仰的追求还会存在吗？
Christmas Day in the Morning 圣诞节的早晨
◎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!
他猛地一下醒来，就再也睡不着了。现在是凌晨四点钟，正是以前父亲叫他起床帮忙挤奶的时间。奇怪的是，他年轻时养成的早醒习惯还一直保持着！他的父亲已经去世30年了，他仍旧一到4点钟就会醒。可今天是圣诞节的早晨，所以他不想再接着睡了。
可现在的圣诞节对他来说又有什么样的魔力呢？他的童年和青春已然离他远去，他的儿女也已经长大成人、各奔前程去了。
昨天，他的妻子说，也许现在不用过什么圣诞节了——可他却十分肯定地说：“不！爱丽丝，即使现在就剩下我们两个人，那也得过一个属于自己的圣诞节。”
妻子接着说：“罗伯特，我们明天再装饰圣诞树吧！我有点累了。”
他同意了。于是，那棵圣诞树就被原封不动地放在后门那儿。
他在自己的卧室里睡下了，而妻子睡得浅，所以连接两个房间的门总是关着的。分房睡是夫妻俩多年前作出的决定。可从那之后他们就再也不像以前睡得那么香了。毕竟他们一起生活了很久，已经没有什么能把他们分开。
为何今夜他久久不能入眠？因为今晚是一个万里无云、满天星斗的夜晚。虽不见月亮，但繁星闪烁。每当他回忆起这件往事时，特别是在圣诞节的黎明之前想起它，星星就好像显得特别大，特别亮。
这些年以来，他总是不由自主地回忆起那些旧事来。那时的他才15岁，就住在父亲的农场里。他深爱着他的父亲。可他不曾察觉到父亲也是那样地爱着他，直到圣诞节前的某一天，他无意中听到父母的谈话。
“玛丽，我实在不愿意那么早就把罗布叫醒。他正在长身体，需要睡眠。看到他那熟睡的样子，我都不忍心叫醒他。我真想一个人就把活全都干了。”
他的母亲毫不犹豫地说：“噢！亚当，你这么想就不对了。他已经长大了，是时候帮家里做点事了。”
“话是没错，”他的父亲缓缓地说道，“但我真的不忍心吵醒他。”
听到父母的这些话后，他从心底明白了父亲对他的爱。这是他以前从未想到的，他以前只是想当然地以为血缘关系应该就是那样了吧！他的父母都不会把对孩子的爱挂在嘴上——他们也没有时间那样做。农场里总是有太多事要忙。现在他明白父亲是爱他的，所以早晨他再也不想赖床，再也不用父亲把他叫醒了。这时，他揉着惺忪睡眼，磕磕绊绊地从床上爬起来，把衣服穿上。
还记得，那是他15岁那年的圣诞节前夕，他躺在床上想着第二天要干的事。他家里穷，圣诞节最激动人心的时刻就是吃自家养的火鸡和妈妈亲手做的馅饼。他的姐姐会亲手缝制礼物，而父母会买一些他需要的东西，可能是一件暖和的夹克，也可能是书本那些东西。当然，他也会用自己省下的零花钱给家人买些礼物。
他希望在自己15岁的这个圣诞节给父亲买一份好点的礼物，而不像过去那样，只是到10美分店铺里买一条普通的领带。他侧躺着，透过阁楼的那个窗户向外望去。
“爸爸，”他年幼时曾经问过父亲，“马厩是什么？”
“它就是个养牲口的地方，”他的父亲回答道，“就像我们家里的牲口棚一样。”
耶稣就是在马厩里出生的，而牧师和智者也会在马厩里分发圣诞礼物！
突然他的脑海里闪过一丝念头：我为什么不能在牲口棚里给爸爸送一份特别的礼物呢？我可以在凌晨四点之前起来，这样就能比父亲起得早。接着我就偷偷溜进牲口棚把挤奶、清洗牲口棚的活都干完。这样，当父亲进入牲口棚准备开始干活时，就能看到自己所做的一切。
他凝望着夜空中的繁星，安静地想着，不知不觉得意地笑了。他决定了，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，借着火光看他那只旧怀表。时间一分一秒地过去：1点半，2点……
还没到3点，他就起床穿好了衣服。他蹑手捏脚地走下楼，生怕弄出声音吵醒父母。牲口棚里，一头奶牛睡眼惺忪地看着他，仿佛正为他这么早来挤奶而感到奇怪。
但是它们还是乖乖地顺从了他。他给奶牛添了一些干草，然后将挤奶用的桶和奶罐摆放整齐。
他以前从来没有单独挤过奶，这件事情对他来说好像也不是很容易。他笑着，不慌不忙地干了起来。他看着不断涌出的牛奶流进奶桶里，散发着一股醉人的奶香味。奶牛很听话，好像它们知道今天是圣诞节似的。
任务完成得比他想象的要顺利很多。挤一次奶对他来说算不上什么繁杂的事情，而是给深爱他的父亲准备的一份特别礼物。他挤的奶装满了两大奶罐。他盖上盖子，小心翼翼地把牛棚的大门关上，反复确认是否上了门闩。他把凳子放回门边，把清洗奶桶的刷子挂回门后。然后，他关上身后的门离开牛棚。
回到房间后，他只有1分钟的时间摸黑脱掉自己的衣服，然后爬进被窝里。因为他听到了父亲起床的声音。他用被子把头蒙住，好让狂跳不止的心尽快平静下来。这时，门开了。
“罗布,”他的父亲叫着他的名字，“孩子，即使今天是圣诞节我们也得早起呀！”
“好的，爸爸。”他装出一副还没睡醒的样子答道。
“那我先去了，”父亲说，“我得把事情先干起来。”
门关上了，他仍旧躺在床上，自己傻笑着。几分钟之后，父亲就会看到自己所做的一切。他的心跳加速，那颗心好像时刻准备着逃出他的身体。
等待总是漫长的——10分钟过去了，15分钟过去了，他甚至不知道究竟过去了多长时间。然后他听见父亲的脚步声再一次响起。门开了，他仍旧躺在床上。
“罗布！”
“我在呢，爸爸。”
“你小子……”他的父亲笑了，哽咽道。
“你小子骗了我，是不是？”父亲就站在他的床边，掀开蒙着他的被子。父亲感动极了！
“那是我为你准备的圣诞礼物，爸爸！”
这时，只见父亲给了他一个大大的拥抱。他感觉到父亲的双臂正环绕着自己，即使在这个漆黑的看不到彼此的房间里。
“孩子，谢谢你。这是我收过的最好的礼物。”
“噢，爸爸！我想让你知道——我能做得很好！”这些话仿佛自发地从他嘴里冒出来。他不知该说些什么。此刻他的心中满满的都是爱。
他再一次起床穿上衣服，然后和父亲一起走到圣诞树旁。多美好的圣诞节啊！特别是当他听到父亲对母亲说他现在不用别人叫就知道自己起床的时候，他感到有点害羞，但更多的是自豪。
“这是我收到的最好的圣诞礼物。孩子，只要我活着，每年圣诞节的早晨我都会想起它。”
父子俩都会记住它。现如今，他的父亲去世了，只有他独自一人回忆着：在那个美好的圣诞节早晨，他独自一人在牛棚里制作了一份充满爱的礼物。
窗外，繁星那闪烁的光环渐渐褪去。他起床穿上拖鞋、睡袍，轻轻地走下楼。他悄悄地把圣诞树搬进屋中，小心翼翼地开始装扮起来。不一会儿，圣诞树就完成了装扮。接着他到书房取来一个小盒子，里面装着他为妻子准备的特殊礼物——一枚不大但设计精美的钻石胸针。然而，他却仍旧不满意这份礼物。他想告诉她——自己是多么爱她。
他暗自庆幸自己还能爱。这正是生活的真正乐趣所在——能够爱。因为他深知一些人的的确确不会去爱任何人。但是，爱却能在他的身体里生根发芽。爱一直都在！
他忽然明白，自从知道父亲深爱着自己后，爱就久久地活在他心中。那就是：独自去爱也能唤醒爱。更重要的是，他还能一次又一次将礼物送给挚爱。
这个早晨，这个美好的圣诞节早晨，他将把爱送给心爱的妻子。他将把爱写进一封信里，让妻子看后能将爱永远地保存下来。他走到书桌旁坐下，开始了他那封写给挚爱的情书：我最亲爱的爱人……
多么美好、多么幸福的圣诞节啊！
美丽语录
If I know what love is,it is because of you.
因为你，我懂得了爱。
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，一去不复返的童年啊！叫我们怎能不去珍爱，不去回忆童年的美好呢？童年的回忆让我心情舒畅，精神振奋，它是我无上乐趣的源泉。
有时回忆起逝去的日子，我就会想起这样的情景：跑累了，我就坐在茶桌旁的那张高背椅上休息；时候不早了，我早早地把那杯牛奶喝完，然后就那样闭上睡意浓浓的双眼，静静地坐在那儿聆听。我怎么能不听呢？妈妈正在和别人说话，她的声音是那么的美妙、亲切。她的声音给了我源自心灵深处的启发！
我用睡眼朦胧的双眼渴望地凝视着她。忽然，她的脸庞变得越来越小，最后只有一个圆点那么大。可我仍旧能够看见她的脸庞，她看了我一眼，冲我微微一笑。有的时候，我却喜欢看见她变成那么一点点大。当我眯上眼睛时，我眼中的她就变得比孩子还小了。忽然，我动了一下，眼前的情景消失了。我再次半睁着双眼拼命想让梦境重现，但它永远消失了。我站了起来，接着无奈地坐回到那张高背椅上。
“你又睡着了，小尼古拉斯，”妈妈说，“你最好上楼睡。”
“不，妈妈，我不想睡觉，”我答道，声音小得几乎都听不见，因为那个美妙的梦境正充满着我的脑海。小孩子天生入睡快，我很快就闭上了双眼，一转眼的功夫就进入了梦乡，一直睡到我被唤醒为止。睡梦中我总能感觉到一双温柔的手抚摸着我。单凭这种感觉，我就知道那是她，即使在梦中，我也会不由自主地拉住这双手，把它紧紧地放在自己的唇边。所有人都回房睡觉了，只留下一根蜡烛在客厅里。
妈妈说过她会亲自把我唤醒的。她就坐在我睡觉的那张高背椅的扶手上，用她那双温柔的手拨弄着我的头发。接着，我的耳边传来一个充满爱意的、熟悉的声音：“亲爱的，该起来了，我们上楼睡吧！”
没有任何羡慕的眼光为我见证这一切。她不惜将自己所有的温柔和爱都给了我。我没有醒来，只是亲了亲她的手。
“起来呀，我的小天使。”
她用一只手托着我的脖子，另一只手的手指不断在我身上搔痒。房间里很安静，只有少许的光亮，半明半暗的。她的搔痒仿佛触碰到了我的每条神经，我醒了。妈妈就坐在我的身旁——我知道——轻抚着我。我能听到她的声音，感觉到她的存在。这让我猛得一下坐起身来，双手环住她的脖子，一头扎进她的怀里，并撒娇道：“我最亲爱的妈妈，我好爱你呀！”
她笑了，那是一种多愁善感却又充满魅力的微笑。她用双手将我抱起来，亲了一下我的额头，让我坐在她的膝盖上。
“你真的有这么爱我吗？”她说。她沉默了一会儿，接着说：“那你无时无刻都要爱着我，永远都不要忘记我。如果妈妈不在了，你能保证永远记住她吗？尼古连卡，你要永远记住她。”话音刚落，她就给了我一个无比温存的吻。
“噢！亲爱的妈妈，我最亲爱的妈妈，请别这么说！”我紧紧抓住她的双膝，大声说道。这时，我的眼中泛起了泪光，那是喜悦的泪水，那是充满爱的泪水。
之后，我回到楼上，站在神像前，虔诚地祷告着：“上帝啊，请保佑我的爸爸妈妈吧！”当我用自己那稚嫩的声音为挚爱的母亲重复祷告时，我对上帝的爱居然神奇般地与我对妈妈的爱交织在一起。
祷告结束后，我会钻进被窝，心里觉得既轻松，又平静，又幸福。一个梦接着一个梦。那这些梦都是关于什么呢？它们都会渐渐消逝不见，但是，这些梦承载着满满的爱和对幸福的企盼。我依稀记得，自己曾经回忆起卡尔·伊凡内奇和他的悲惨命运。他是我唯一认识的苦命人。我为他感到难过，同时我也深爱着他。就这样想着想着，我的眼眶泛起了泪光：“祈求上帝赐予他幸福，让我帮他减轻一些痛苦吧！我愿为他做任何事情。”接着，我会拿出心爱的玩具——一只陶瓷小狗或者一只小兔——把它们藏在枕头后的角落里，好好地看着它们温暖、舒适地躺在那里。我接着祷告，求上帝赐给每个人幸福，让所有人都称心如意，明天散步会有个好天气。然后我翻了个身，脸上已被泪水浸湿。最后我沉沉地、静静地睡着了。
童年时代所拥有的那些朝气蓬勃的精神，轻松愉快的心情，对爱和信仰的追求——还会存在吗？当天真的喜悦和对爱的无限追求——这两种最崇高的美德成为我们一生的追求时，又会有什么比这两者更美好？
如今，那些真诚的企盼在哪儿呢？如今，我们最好的礼物——感动的泪水——又在哪儿呢？天使会擦干这些泪水，微笑着把充满儿童乐趣的美梦带给我们。难道生活所留下的只是苦难的印迹，却把泪水与欢喜永远地带走了？难道留给我们的就只是回忆？
美丽语录
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，没留时间给我们每日带着遗憾醒来。所以去爱那些对你好的人，忘掉那些不知珍惜你的人。
This Boy and His Bicycle 骑单车的男孩
◎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.
与年迈的母亲携手重游儿时的故乡，是一件很美妙的事情！我在这儿长大的事情就像发生在几世纪以前一样。想当初，这个小镇只是我童年生活一个不起眼的背景罢了。
母亲年事已高，但按这个年纪来说，她的身体还算是硬朗的，只是这几天动作迟缓了一些。我们在书房里进行了一次暖人心房的长谈，谈到我的妻子、孩子以及远在大城市里的工作事宜。我们把眼前的一切说了个遍。
这真是到户外散散步，呼吸一下新鲜空气的完美时刻啊！我仿佛听到一个声音，它在召唤着我看看身边的一切，看世事如何变迁又如何保有原样。我走过街道，就好像重新骑上我那心爱的单车，回到我的少年时代。我又将开始一次美妙的单车之旅了。啊！单车将带着我重游故地。
街角有个小店，就是骑单车从一条街转向另一条街的那个拐角。我能从小店里买到一杯玻璃瓶装的冰镇苏打汽水，还有一个大红色的金属盖子。小店里面有一条长长的糖果长廊，让我不得不认真考虑自己的选择：是买一块糖果呢，还是买一套随赠泡泡糖的足球卡，还是买形状酷似火球的硬糖？……选择的自由不曾消失过，只是随着时间的推移，这种自由需要与之相称的智慧来调配。
潺潺流动的河面上架着一座高桥，我总喜欢把单车停在那儿，然后静静地坐着冥想。当我低头望着小河，眺望无际的地平线时，我的脑中总会闪现出一些奇怪的念头：“这条河会流到哪里呢？河的前面会是什么呢？那前面的前面又会是什么呢？也许有一天，当我长大的时候，我可以独自去旅行，去体验……我去过许许多多地方，只是为了扩大我的好奇心，因为我已然意识到自己对这个世界有多么的无知。”
骑单车去那个已经退休的老医生家里，不一会儿功夫就到了。我每个星期都会为他修剪草坪。他也会多少给我一些报酬，让我帮他打理他的大院子。一起工作时我们聊得十分开心。虽然我早已记不清我们具体聊了些什么，但是我记得他总会耐心聆听，这让我觉得他十分尊重我。当然，他确实知道对每个平凡的人来说，生活的真正面目会是什么。多年以来，拥有善良和智慧的他成了我的榜样，激励着我将这些美德传播给比我年轻的人们。
前面拐角过去再过三栋房子便是她的家了。我很确定自己迷上了她。她留着一头漂亮的金发，可爱至极。放学后，我骑着单车一次又一次经过她家门前，想着她是不是刚好从屋内出来，或许，就只是或许，我能有机会跟她说上话。其实即使有这种机会，我也不知道该说些什么，但无论如何都值得一试。可不幸的是，她在学校从未真正注意到我，即使她跟我是同班同学。我很想知道如今她身在何方……多年以后，我在大学里第一次碰见我的未来新娘时，我还是那么害羞，甚至不知道怎样开始我们的谈话。然而，奇妙的是，这些时刻竟成了点燃我们到如今持续25年婚姻的爱情之火。
那棵特别的树去哪儿了呢？我知道它就在这附近，可能在这两栋房子中间，也可能在下一栋房子旁边。我猜那棵树已经消失很久了。我为自己准备了午餐，是花生酱和果冻三明治，它们就放在单车前面的篮子里。这样，我就可以一整天都待在树上，无拘无束地想着。这儿对我来说是一个绝佳的避难所，每一根粗大的树枝都是一个华丽的房间，都是我美丽城堡里的一部分。能够找到这样一个有趣的专属堡垒，我真是一个富有的人啊！我总喜欢爬上最高的地方，因为爬得越高，看得越远。可那儿的树枝很细，我必须紧紧抓住它，任由自己在风中摇摆。我甚至还能看见超市，瞥见一公里以外的海洋。我很庆幸母亲不知道我会爬到这么高的地方……从那以后，我深深地觉得，为了欣赏生活的最美景致爬上那个致高点是值得的。
我的单车曾带着我在这个小镇里冒险——穿过安全的人行道和寂静的街道。有了它，我更能享受探索的自由。单车带着我去过许多地方，包括那些只有我知道的地方。看起来探索的机会是无穷无尽的，探索的经历是惊心动魄的，甚至想象中的危险也能令人兴奋不已。
如今，我的生活有了更广阔的空间去行驶，然而，也有了足够安全的定义分明的界限。我早已计划好去创造、去享受那种美好生活。那将会是一个不需要任何冒险的地方。
少年时代的探索已然过去数十年了，我的旧单车肯定也早已锈迹斑斑了吧！然而，虽然现在一切看似早已不同往日，但事实上什么都不曾改变过。生活依旧是一种冒险，依旧不停地召唤着我们。虽然如今的我也算是小有成就，可我仍然不停地建造属于我的城堡，让自己生活的空间变大。我仍旧要为前进的方向计划着，并小心地航行在智慧的道路上。
这个奇特的小镇，这个与众不同的地方，是我人生中一段意义深远的准备，就像我生活里的一个微观世界。在这儿，我接受了无声无息的教育，学到了对于此后生活无比重要的东西。
美丽语录
We grow neither better or worse as we grow old but more and more like ourselves.
随着年龄的增长，我们并不变好也不变坏，而是变得更像我们自己。
Hello,6-year-old Child 你好，6岁的朋友
◎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.
既然命运让我们在这架豪华飞机上拥挤的二等舱里相遇，我想我有必要介绍一下自己。
我叫艾米，是一个大人。我猜你还小，不明白什么是“大人”，那就让我解释一下吧！它的意思就是：我比你高，比你聪明，而且我做了很多可怕的事情，例如抽烟和排卵。当然它也意味着我喜欢在飞机上小憩，或者静静地看报纸。看样子，你喜欢做的事情和以上这些是大不相同的。
我从坐在你身边的那位妇女——我猜是你的母亲，或者也许只是别人花钱雇来陪你玩的社工或联邦囚犯——口中得知，你的名字叫蒂米。我不敢确定，也许你的真名叫蒂莫西，只是人们觉得蒂米这个名字更可爱，于是就这样叫你了吧！这个名字的确很适合你，因为你真的很可爱。
我要喝咖啡了，你想来一杯吗？我想你不会喜欢咖啡的。据我观察，你最多只喝果汁。那么，我是怎样得出这个结论呢？我注意到我那条价值98美金的裤子上有一个污点，那是你把果汁盒放在上面时留下的痕迹。蒂米，如果我碰到你的裤子，我很可能会被关进监狱。你我之间有太多不同，其中一个最大的不同就是：当我们碰到其他人的裤子时，我会受到责骂，而你不会。
蒂米，你不大喜欢睡觉，是吧？虽然我们刚认识，可在我看来，你并不把睡觉当作一种享受。事实上，你人生中的最大乐趣之一就是醒着。你醒着，不是消极地，而是精力旺盛地。于是，像我这样的人便开始质疑——在宇宙中生存的条件真的是沉默吗？蒂米，我知道我让你困惑了，我向你道歉。我只是想说你真的很享受醒着的每分每秒。让我为你适当地开一些安眠药吧！它就像是为你的心灵准备的糖果，而你的心灵就是大脑的嘴巴。
迎面走来一位拿着塑料袋的女服务员，她正在收拾垃圾。你要不要把自己座位上的那些垃圾交给她呢？蒂米，不如我们诚实一点，把我座位上的那些也交给她吧？也许我该把那个会说话的布娃娃——大声唱着热门电影昆虫历险记里的主题曲，声音还大得惊人的娃娃——交给她。我这么做只是觉得儿童携带这样的东西上飞机是不合规定的，并不是因为我不喜欢那个布娃娃。蒂莫西，你听说过恐怖主义吗？这就是为什么不允许你把这个布娃娃带上飞机的原因。
你脸上的泪滴表明，或许这次谈话起作用了。所以，我让你回去继续你的手指画，你的好动，你的任性，你无理取闹地将飞机内的杂志撕毁。我则安坐在我的座位上，幻想着那个幼稚的我能够在飞机外的天空中奔跑。蒂米，好好享受接下来的旅程吧！很高兴能够坐在你旁边。结交新朋友真是一件有趣的事情。
美丽语录
Listen quietly,to the sound of your heart.Cheerful melodies may rise.Some simple,some profound,some gentle,some loud.
静静聆听内心世界的声音，常常有令人欢喜的旋律响起。可以简单、可以深沉，可以抒情、可以喧闹。
A Funny Memory 童真记趣
◎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，我的天呐！我记得我跟妹妹们一起做这件蠢事的时候我才７岁半。我记得那时我们正在看电视，播的正好是我们最喜爱的一档节目。正在这时，我听到后院传来弟弟克里斯的叫喊声。所以我们所有人都跑到后院看发生了什么事。最后，当我们找到他时，他正在那根最高的树枝上大哭呢！他向我们解释说，他爬上这棵树之后就下不来了。我们想了一会儿，觉得我们中的一个人必须爬上这棵树，然后把他带下来。可我们当中没有一个人能够做到。
这时，我最小的妹妹，只有５岁半的卡想起在一个节目里看过类似的情况。她建议我们抓住一张床单，然后站在克里斯所在的那根树枝下，让他跳下来，然后我们就可以接住他了。这时，另一个比我小一岁的妹妹杨思看了我一眼，想要问我觉得这个提议如何。我说：“那好吧！让我们试一下。”
于是，我们从壁橱里拿来一张床单，紧紧地抓住它，站在树底下。值得提醒的是，拉床单的人的年龄从5岁半到7岁半不等。也就是说，即使我们把床单拉到了腰的位置，它还是离地面很近。但我们却坚信这个方法行得通。
我们抬头看了看克里斯，他正低头看着我们，看得出来他有些犹豫。我不会责怪这个可怜的小家伙。接着，我们叫他松手，背朝地往下跳。克里斯看了看我，问道：“你确定我会落在床单上？”现在，我的弟弟才四岁，说话声音细尖细尖的，很可爱。可由于一些先天因素，他有时说话会有点大舌头。所以这句话听上去更像是：你“切”定“窝”能落在那个“长”单上？“对的！”我很肯定地告诉他，“我们确定。”于是，他松开双手跳了下来。
现在我想起克里斯放开那根树枝时，他对我和其他妹妹是多么信任啊！可我又觉得他太蠢了，他相信了我们。因为他不知自己松手后迎来的将是个大大的惊喜。克里斯正好掉在那张床单上。可他穿过那张床单，摔了个底朝天。尽管我们几个已经使出浑身力气抓紧那张床单，他还是穿了过去。
我们吓坏了，看着摔在地上的克里斯，我们担心极了。这个只有70磅重的小男孩在那张床单上穿了一个大洞，最后落在了地上。他呆呆地躺在那儿，就像在凶案现场用粉笔画出的受害者一样。他的一只手放在脑袋旁边，另一只手放在身体旁边，膝盖微微曲着。我们甚至可以沿着他的身体划线，因为他一动不动地躺在那儿。于是，我们弯下腰看看他是不是还活着。当我们问他怎么样时，他说了以下五个字：“窝掉到地上！”意思就是说：“我还是掉到地上了！”可怜的小家伙！但是，你别责怪我们。现在克里斯已经14岁了，他仍旧对这件事情喋喋不休。现在无论爬上哪棵树，都是自己上，自己下。更奇怪的是，他长大了想当一名消防员。如今，他可以骄傲地说自己有攀高和接物的经验。看吧，什么坏处也没有呀……
美丽语录
Rivers know this:there is no hurry,we shall get there some day.
河流懂得一个道理：无需匆忙，该到的地方总有一天会到达。
Proud of You 为你骄傲
◎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."
记住一个仅是认识的人的名字，43年似乎是段很长的时间。我已经忘了那位老妇人的名字，她是我12岁那年在家乡送报历程中的一位顾客。然而，我永远都不会忘记，她曾给我上的那堂关于“宽恕”的课。
一个冬日的下午，我和一个朋友在老太太家附近的一个后院，往她家的斜屋顶上扔石子玩。我们游戏的目的就是观察这些石子如何变成一颗导弹，从屋顶的边缘瞬间滚落到河岸，像滑过天空的彗星那样射入院中。我找到了一颗十分光滑的石子，然后扔了出去。但是，这颗石子太光滑了，以至于在出手的一刹那偏离了方向。它没有落在屋顶上，反而直接击中了老太太屋后门廊上的一扇小窗户。听到玻璃的破碎声，我们知道自己闯祸了。我们掉头就跑，跑得比任何一颗从她屋顶上发射的导弹都要快。
那天晚上，我太害怕被抓住，没有考虑到被打碎的窗户在寒冷的冬天会给老太太带来什么麻烦。然而，几天之后，当我确认没被人发现时，就开始对给她带来的不幸感到内疚了。每天我给她送报纸时，她仍然笑眯眯地迎接我。但是，在她面前，我再也无法像过去那样自由自在了。
我自己下定主意，决定把送报挣的钱攒起来。三周后，我便有了7美元。我估计这大概够赔偿她的窗户了。我把钱放进一个信封，并附上一张便条，解释说我十分抱歉打破了她家的窗户，希望这7美元足够赔付她修理窗户的费用。
我一直等到天黑，才悄悄溜进老太太的家，把这封没有署名的信从信箱口投了进去。做完这件事情后，我感到自己的灵魂似乎得到了解脱，重新获得了自由，我能够再次无拘无束地直视老太太亲切的目光了。
第二天，当老太太微笑着从我手上接过报纸时，我也向她回报了一个温暖的微笑。她对我的送报工作表示感谢，送了我一袋她亲手做的甜饼。谢过她后，我一边吃着曲奇饼，一边继续给别的客户送报纸。
吃了几块饼干后，我摸到了一个信封，就把它从袋子里拽了出来。当我打开信封时，我愣住了。信封里有7美元，还有一张纸条，上面写道：“我为你感到骄傲。”
美丽语录
I can't choose how I feel,but I can choose what I do about it.
我无法选择我的感受，但我可以选择要怎样去做。
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.
对我来说，我的房间太小了。我几乎没有多余的空间放置那些多年收集的小玩意儿。我有太多的东西需要装箱，需要藏进家里的各个壁橱里。我时常想不起那些东西究竟放在哪儿。
那些东西包括：初中时期我和好姐妹们的点点滴滴；初恋男友写给我的那些青涩的情诗（其实是他花钱请朋友写的）。我还有另外一个箱子，专门用来放置过去的生日会、情人节、周年纪念日以及舞会上收到的蔷薇花。我的相册就整齐地摆放在书架的最底层。我有珠宝首饰，但我从来都不戴。可是会有那么一天，为了找寻它们，我会翻遍整个房间。我也会收藏生日卡和圣诞卡，早秋时节从树上飘落的叶子，还有我在钢琴比赛上获得的那些奖杯。甚至在我的书架上，还有一个位置是专属于那块从小学里捡来的砖块。
其实我并不确定自己为什么要收藏这些东西。然而，一些想法始终萦绕着我。也许我不愿忘却成长过程中经历的那些欢乐时光。我生怕自己会和那些大人一样，他们无法亲近孩子，只因他们早已忘记自己曾经也是孩子。我想记住：没有男生送花给我的时候，是哥哥送花给我。我想在某一天，看着照片回忆自己第一次去巴拿马旅行的点点滴滴。也许有一些奇怪的原因，我想记住我跟玩伴在操场上发现那块破砖块的日子。那时的我们还天真地以为学校也会裂成碎片。
所以，我将我的生活封存在我的卧室里：它们整齐地摆放在盒子里；它们高高地叠放在衣橱里；它们陈列在我的书架上；它们被我偷偷地藏在那个用来收纳内衣的抽屉里，这样我就不会忘记了。我爱我的房间，只因它的一切都与我有关。我不必和他人共享这一切。我的回忆也不会和兄弟姐妹或者室友的回忆纠缠不清。我的房间就是……我的房间，满满的都是属于我的东西。
也许是离开了家，踏进了大学校园，还要和另一个女孩共用一个十平米大的房间。我突然觉得家里的那间卧室也不是很小了。我尽了最大的努力让一半的房间只属于我。然而，如此狭小的空间里，我的想法根本无法实现。她的书本偶尔也会在我的桌面上出现，或者她的鞋子就摆在我的衣橱前面。有时我的毯子上稀稀疏疏满是她吃饼干时掉下的碎屑。她的梳子也常常到我梳子的“地盘”上瞎逛。
这样，我珍爱的那些记忆便无处“安身”了。我只带了一些照片，把我所有的毕业纪念册、干花以及那些写着“谁喜欢谁”的短笺留在了家里。也许最惨痛的事情莫过于没有空间开始我的新收藏了。恐怖的是我的大学生活将无从回忆。这对我来说太可怕了。我睡觉学习的地方并不专属于我，它只是一个房间而已。
卡里克大厅南区404号房仅仅只是一个学习睡觉的地方。当然，我还可以在那静静地看着我的室友看电视。房间里堆满了教科书、CD和饭盒……这些东西本不该出现在卧室里。这里只能容下一个吃饱的人和三张从墙上剥落的海报。我讨厌睡觉的房间里还有微波炉和冰箱。更可恶的是我还要负责“喂饱”它们。
新房间缺少个性不说，更糟糕的是它没有任何隐私可言。有些时候，特别是该睡觉的时候，室友会在我睡下之后推门进来。我知道她不是故意要把我吵醒。可当她开始那一连串的睡前动作时，我的耳朵便不听使唤了，我仿佛听到了水池旁传来成千上万个洗面奶瓶子互相撞击的声音。当然，我知道自己也曾打扰过她。正当我想学习的时候，打字的声音却妨碍她欣赏那些美妙的音乐，像《爱之船》、《我们的日子》和《另一个世界》。
室友并不是唯一一个会夺走我的隐私，并把404变成不属于我的房间的人。住在隔壁的女孩们，她们把我看成备用的语法拼音检查机，因为电脑无法找出每一个错误。我无法上锁，只因它不是我一个人的房间。我不能说“走开”，只因她们早已成为我的好友，再说我也无法无礼对待我在乎的人。
隐私的缺失的确让我很懊恼。我所生活的房间不仅是卧室，也是书房、厨房、客厅和浴室。待在里面，我甚至无法悲伤。有时悲伤不喜欢同伴，但却源自同伴。如果我无法随心所欲地装扮我的房间，至少我可以享受孤独。可宿舍不是为了孤独而存在的，这我早就知道，宿舍里的人们需要学会与人共处。（多年之后给刚刚踏入大学的子女们提意见时，也许我会记起这个“噩梦”给我带来的那些好处。可是当下，我什么都不愿记住。）
然而，偶尔也会有好的一面。虽然她的吵闹永无止境，可有时她正是那个我想见到的人。我不如她了解我那样了解她。她常常知道我想说却还未说出口的话，而且她也知道什么时候应该闭嘴。她是朋友，也是敌人。如果她离开了，我一定会想她。对于隔壁的女孩们，我有着同样的情感。她们把我当作语法纠错女神确实有点阿谀奉承的意思。
也许最重要的是那些紧随其后的想法。然而，我再也不愿住进一间完全不属于我的房间里，而且我再也不会那样做。我终于懂得住在一间粉色、绿色和白色漆成的房间里是多么幸福！房间书架上摆放着一块砖头，收纳内衣的抽屉里藏着一本日记，还有那份完全属于我的私人空间。它也许不是我所喜欢的房间，但是它就在那儿安静地等着我，就像我也会静静地坐在那儿等着它一样。
美丽语录
I like to present myself.I miss our past.
我喜欢现在的自己，我怀念过去的我们。