第6章 那些值得的回亿
I wish I were a kid,because skinned knees are easier to fix than broken hearts.
我多希望自己还是个孩子，因为擦破皮的膝盖比伤透的心更容易愈合。
A Promise of Spring 春天的承诺
◎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.
早春时节，也就是爷爷中风前的一个月，我开始每天下午散步一小时。有时，我会步行向南走过四条街去探望爷爷奶奶。爷爷86岁了，可还是一个杰出的花匠。所以，我常常观察他种的最早盛开的花，还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园，所以对花特别感兴趣，希望爷爷能给我一些建议。我以为自己清楚究竟想要什么——满院子的花草树木，一直从5月开到11月。
那年春天，就是在草丛中的第一株紫罗兰和连翘出现后，爷爷得了中风。他没法开口说话了，左半边身体也无法动弹。家里所有人都来看望爷爷。我们都花了好几个小时陪在他身边。有几天，他的眼睛炯炯有神的——笑着听我们说不幸的事，听的时候表情十分机警。他表示自己不能自理，心里感觉很痛苦。也有些时候，他一整天都处于昏昏欲睡的状态，体重也在增加，好像随时都会有危险。
时间过得很快，几个月过去了，我就像爷爷那样望着地里长出来的东西。每次我和他待在一起的时候，都要向他汇报花园里的情况。他一边听着，一边用和往常一样的力气紧紧握着我的手。可他无法回答我的问题。因此，很多绽放、憔悴、凋谢和死亡的花，我甚至都不知道它们的名字。
爷爷的疾病从春季开始就一直折磨着他，一直持续到夏季。我开始在当地的花圃里帮忙，学习选种和种植。我买了一些曾在爷爷花园里见过的植物，并悉心把它们种在我自己的花园里，这对我来说就是一件乐事。我在爷爷的花园里发现了我十分喜欢的美洲石竹，在这之前我并不知道它的名字。现在，我将它种在自己的花园里，以表示对爷爷的敬意。
当我守在爷爷身边、望着花园的时候，真理不断在我眼前涌现。我意识到爷爷喜欢盛开的花朵。在他的花园里，他种了整整一片玫瑰。可我也注意到，爷爷留了好多空地，只是为了让光线照进来。爷爷花园里并不是每一个角落都有盛开的鲜花。但惊喜总会一个接一个的从那儿冒出来。
我也发现，爷爷的花园就像一面镜子，映照着他的一生。他一生勤勤恳恳，因为他懂得“一份耕耘，一份收获”的道理。可他除了懂得辛勤劳作，他也懂得享受四季的变迁。我们常常拿他的生活史开玩笑。他写了两段文章以总结他50年的工作，另外还有九页纸写着关于他的旅游经历。
7月的时候，爷爷的病情恶化了。一个炎热的中午，没有人陪在他身边。只有我在，他很高兴，于是伸出手把我抱得紧紧的。
我把所学到的东西告诉爷爷——很少有花能从4月开到11月。那些最美的花最长也只能开一个多月。想要真正欣赏花园里的美景，你必须在每个角落里种上鲜花。朵朵盛开的花把花园装扮得更加美丽了，每朵花都有属于自己的季节。
他的眼睛仿佛也在认真听着我说的每个字。然后，我又有了一个新发现：“爷爷，如果我想让我的花园变得跟你的花园一样，我必须辛勤劳作。”他咧开嘴对我笑着，连他的眼睛都在嘲笑我。
“爷爷，菊花开了，菊花和玫瑰花都开了。”我们的眼眶里噙满泪水。我们不怕最后一朵花的凋零。可从11月就开始等待春天，好像有点漫长。我们会想念彼此的。
静静地坐在那，我突然想到自己能给爷爷的最好礼物——说出我们之间的承诺。他从未跟我提过他的承诺，可我从来没有怀疑过那就是他生活的一部分，这一点爷爷是知道的。他所知道的我都知道。
“爷爷，”我开始说——可他的双唇紧闭，仿佛知道我想说什么——“我想告诉你，我有一个承诺。我知道救世主是存在的。我向你保证，约瑟夫·史密斯是一位预言家。我喜欢王政复辟时代和那个时代的趣事。”爷爷坚定的眼神告诉我，他也深有同感。“我向你保证金博尔总统是一位预言家。爷爷，我知道《摩门经》是真的。我用自己做担保。”
“爷爷，”我轻声补充道，“我知道上帝是爱你的。”我为一生谦逊、平静的爷爷许下这个承诺。对我而言，这是一个未经允许、突如其来的承诺。它令人欣慰又让人心碎。
上帝十分同情爷爷的遭遇——这个想法一直围绕并支撑着我们。这个自我意识的力量强大得让我无法用言语形容——我只能用感激之泪、谦恭之泪、宽慰之泪来表达。
我和爷爷相拥而泣。
8月底，夏末之际，爷爷去世了。当大家在花农那儿为爷爷的葬礼挑选葬花时，我偷偷跑到爷爷的花园里。我一边走一边回忆着耧斗菜和美洲石竹。如今花园里只有薰衣草、白色夹竹桃和另一个角落里绽放的满天星。
一时心血来潮，我摘下几朵最美的夹竹桃和满天星，为爷爷的葬礼增添一份新的装扮。亲朋好友看到这些花时，他们都笑了，因为他们看到了爷爷亲手种的花。我们都觉得爷爷一定会很喜欢那些花。
爷爷走后的10月，我种下了郁金香、水仙、雪莲花、番红花和蓝铃花。在我眼中，每一朵含苞待放的花就是一份安慰，就是一份送给爷爷的爱，就是一份春天的承诺。
美丽语录
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，这世上最珍贵的风景。困难时他们突然出现；有意无意时他们助推成功；守护秘密时他们相依为伴。
The Thread of Permanence 永恒之脉
◎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，童年的某些事情总会给我们留下深刻的印象。我记得朗费罗的一首诗：
“真实又真诚的生活啊！
最终的归宿绝不会是坟墓；
你本是尘土，必将回归尘土，
这并非指你的灵魂。”
诗中还说：
“伟人的一生提醒我们
我们能让生活变得高尚，
并在逝去的时候
在时间的沙滩上留下脚印。”
当然，我们这代人远比现在的年轻一代来得多愁善感。但不管这首诗是不是上乘之作，它都用简朴的语言传递一个道理，在一个小男孩的脑海中留下不可磨灭的印象。
我15岁时，心中住着一位守护天使。每当周日去乡间写生时，她就成了我的向导。我祈祷自己有朝一日能成为一个伟大的艺术家，画出真正的自然美景。这些祈祷让我更加坚信世界、坚信自己。
我的信仰和信心正面临着挑战。原子时代让我们陷入一阵恐慌。我们的生活变得无常、多变。人类的潜力、人性的闪光点找不到施展的舞台，只能白白浪费。我有时想，世间万物能够存在简直就是一种奇迹。然而，我坚信永恒之脉贯穿世间万物，最宝贵的遗产将会永存。
我相信，每个人都渴望汇入这个永恒之脉。这是生活的冲动。有些人称之为生命的动力。不管它是什么，我相信它是一种积极向上的东西，它让我们有了生存的目的。可只有目的是不够的。艺术家总被认为是不切实际的。但是对我而言，任何艺术创作都是诞生在我的决定和安排之后。我意识到，在生活面前，光有敏感和对美好事物的感知是远远不够的，还需要一颗谦卑的心。
作为一名艺术家，我的宗旨是：爱生活、爱自由、爱世人。一个懂得干一行爱一行的人通常都是有梦想的人，而他的梦想也会通过一种形式和符号表达出来。创作是一种美妙绝伦的经历。可我认为，如今缺少的是一种沟通的能力。如果所有人，而不仅仅是艺术家，都愿意敞开心扉诉说各自的伤悲、幸福、眼泪和希望，就会发现自己已然汇入生活这条大河，这是他们以前从未见过的。
偶尔的恐惧和嘲讽也会让人失去信心。那么，我会拼命回想古往今来那些伟大的艺术家是如何拥有非凡的表现力。他们的表现力能与人沟通，催人奋进，是一股让旁听者或喜或悲、或怕或敬的力量，而不只是一种摆设和消遣。
如果我们能扩大视野、拓宽思路，我们会发现每个人都有创作的天分。它赋予了每个生命不同的个性。它让每个人在永恒之脉上占有一席之地。如果我们唤醒心中的它，我敢肯定我们将生活在一个活力四射、惊险刺激而又充满革新精神的时代里。它将引领我们走向更美好的世界。
美丽语录
The presence of God of luck is always brought by your glimpse,reconsideration and a forward step.
幸运之神的降临，往往只是因为你多看了一眼，多想了一下，多走了一步。
The Child's Guardian Angel 孩子的守护天使
◎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."
从前，有个孩子就要出生了。有一天，他问上帝：“他们对我说，你明天就要把我送到人间了。可是，我这么弱小和无助，怎么在那儿生活呢？”
上帝回答道：“我从众多天使中为你挑选了一位，她会守在你身边、照顾你。”
可小孩不敢确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，我就很开心了。”
“你的天使每天都会为你唱歌，为你微笑。你能感受到天使对你的爱。你会很幸福的。”
“那我怎样才能听懂人类对我说的话呢？”孩子继续问道，“万一我听不懂人类的语言怎么办？”
上帝拍了拍孩子的头，说道：“你的天使会用你从未听过的、最美丽、最动听的语言跟你说话。她还会耐心地教你说话。”
“如果我想和你说话怎么办？”
对于这个问题，上帝心中早已有了答案：“你的天使会将你的双手合拢，教你如何祷告。”
“我听说人间有坏人，那谁来保护我呢？”
“你的天使会保护你，哪怕献出她的生命。”
“可我再也见不到你了，那样我会难过。”孩子小心翼翼地说道。
上帝朝小孩笑了笑，说道：“尽管你我近在咫尺，你的天使还会经常提起我，并教你如何回到我的身边。”
这时，平静的天堂传来了人间的声音。小孩知道自己该启程了。于是，他又轻轻地问了一个问题：“噢，上帝！我就要走了，请你告诉我，我的天使叫什么名字。”
上帝拍了拍孩子的肩膀，答道：“你的天使有个很好记的名字。你就叫她——妈妈。”
美丽语录
Where we love is home,home that our feet may leave,but not our hearts.
家是我们所爱的地方，双脚可以离开，心却不能。
A Beautiful Memory 美好的回忆
◎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……我住过的最可爱的房子，要数小时候和爷爷奶奶一起住的那座房子了。那座房子名叫克罗斯兰。它给了我许多美好的回忆。在儿时的我眼中，它是那样的高大。可爱的起居室里放着一架钢琴。漂亮的大厅里放着地毯、柜子和古董等许多东西。那个充满神秘气息的房间就是会客厅了。只有周日、牧师来喝茶、圣诞节或复活节的时候，我们才能用它。那时候，我一直觉得这个房间很奇怪，那里面放着最好的家具，可总是盖着床单——就像所有的家具都穿着衣服一样。更可笑的是，这么精美的家具，我们却不曾连续使用超过一周时间。
我最喜欢的房间也许就是厨房了。讨喜的红色石地板总是被擦得亮亮的。厨房里有一个大壁炉，把房间烤得暖和极了。壁炉上有一个衣架，我们用它挂衣服，真是合适又美观。这个温暖的房间里正烤着面包呢！奶奶有时也会自己制作冰激凌，我们就在这里吃……厨房望出去是一片菜园，我经常在那儿摘豌豆吃。我曾摘光花园里的所有蔬菜瓜果，做好饭菜后我吃掉了一大半，因为这些蔬菜瓜果实在太新鲜了。奶奶就因为这件事，真的生气了。
如今，当我再次回到这里时，我发现他们犯了一个大错——房内被装修得极富现代气息。那些可爱的老壁炉都已经被拆掉——都不存在了。会客厅和起居室之间的墙也被拆了，成了一个很大、很现代化的可塑型房间。
可最让我伤心的是，我感到房子好像变小了。它变得越来越小，我记忆中的这个漂亮、宽敞、温暖舒适的房子，成了一座房间装修很现代的老房子。它让我明白了一个道理：你无法回到过去，也无法重新抓住逝去的美好。不过，老房子给你的美好回忆还在！
美丽语录
You cannot appreciate happiness unless you have known sadness too.
不知道什么是忧伤，就不会真正感激幸福。
The Boy and the Tree 男孩和苹果树
◎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，有一棵巨大的树。一个小男孩每天都喜欢来到树旁玩耍。他爱这棵树，树也喜欢和他一起玩。
年华似水……小男孩长大了，他不再到树旁玩耍了。
一天，男孩回来了，树非常兴奋。“来和我玩吧。”树说。“我没有时间玩。我得为我的家庭工作。我们需要一个房子来遮风挡雨，你能帮我吗？”“很抱歉，我没有房子。但是，你可以砍下我的树枝来建房。”于是，男孩砍下所有的树枝，高高兴兴地离开了。看到他高兴，树也很高兴。但是，自从那时起，男孩就再也没出现过。
树非常悲伤，也很孤独。突然，在一个炎热的夏日，男孩回到了树旁，树很高兴。“来和我玩吧！”树说。“我很伤心，我开始老了。我想去航海放松自己。你能不能给我一条船？”“用我的树干去造一条船，你就能航海了，你会高兴的。”于是，男孩砍倒树干造了一条船。他航海去了，很长一段时间都没有再露面。
许多年后，男孩终于回来了。“很抱歉，我的孩子，我再也没有任何东西可以给你了。我唯一剩下的就是垂死的树根。”树含着泪说。“现在，我不需要什么了，只想找一个地方休息。这些年来我太累了。”男孩答道。“太好了！老树根就是倚着休息最好的地方。过来，和我一起坐下休息吧。”男孩坐下了，树高兴地留下了眼泪。
这是发生在每一个人身上的故事。树就是我们的父母。我们小的时候，喜欢和爸爸妈妈玩……当我们长大了，便离开他们，只有在我们需要父母，或是遇到麻烦的时候，才会回去找他们。尽管如此，父母却总是有求必应，为了我们的幸福，无私地奉献着自己的一切。你可能觉得那个男孩对树很残忍，但我们何尝不是这样呢？
美丽语录
Respecting and honoring our parents are top priorities.
世界上最不能等的莫过于孝敬父母。
All I Really Need to Know 生命中不可错过的智慧
◎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.
那些不可错过的
关于怎样生活
应该做些什么和怎样去做
我都是在上幼稚园时学到的。
智慧并不存在于
大学校园里那座象牙塔的顶端，
而是在幼稚园的沙堆上。
以下就是我在幼稚园学到的东西：
与人分享一切。
事事要公平。
不要欺负别人。
东西哪里拿的就放回哪里。
整理好自己弄乱的东西。
不要随便拿走不属于自己的东西。
伤害了别人要说对不起。
吃东西前要洗手。
害羞时会脸红。
热饼干和冰牛奶对你有好处。
生活要平衡——
每一天都要学习新东西，每一天都要动脑筋
画画，涂鸦，唱歌，跳舞
要懂得劳逸结合。
每天中午要小憩一会儿。
出门时
要小心车辆，
最好大家能手牵手一齐走。
因为这个世界是奇妙的。
美丽语录
Do what makes you happy.Be with who makes you smile.Laugh as much as you breath.Love as long as you live.
做让你开心的事，交能逗你乐的朋友，像呼吸一样频繁地开怀大笑，像生命一样长久地全心去爱。
All Flowers are Beautiful 所有的花儿都美丽
◎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."
我在一个小镇长大，从我家步行到我就读的小学只要10分钟。在那个时代，其实也就是不久前，孩子们可以回家吃午饭，妈妈会等着他们。
那时候，我并不觉得这有多奢侈，可如今，它的确成了一种奢望。我想当然地认为妈妈就该做三明治，就该欣赏手指画，就该检查家庭作业。我从未怀疑过：在我出生前，这个有抱负、有智慧的女人曾经有过一份事业，又将重新投身于另一份事业。可我上小学的那几年，她几乎每天都陪我吃午餐。
那时，我只知道中午放学的铃声一响，我就会气喘吁吁地跑回家里。妈妈就站在楼梯上，笑容满面地迎接我。这让我觉得我在她心中是唯一重要的事情。为此，我永远心存感激。
一些声音总能将我拉回旧时：妈妈烧开水时水壶发出的又长又尖的声音；地下室里洗衣机发出的隆隆声；我的小狗下楼迎接我时脖子上那块牌子发出的叮当声。可现在的生活无法与以前相比了。如今，我的生活完全被各式各样的行程表所操控着。
我读三年级时的一次午餐时间，我将永生难忘。那时，我在学校的一部话剧中饰演公主。于是，那几个星期妈妈都陪着我练习台词。可不管我在家背得多熟练，一上台，那些台词就从我的脑海中消失了。
最后，我的老师把我叫到一旁，向我解释说，她写了一些旁白，要我换成旁白的角色。她说得很委婉，可还是伤害了我。尤其是当我看到另一个女孩取代我饰演公主时，我的心里难过极了。
那天中午回家吃饭时，我没有把这件事告诉妈妈。可她察觉到了我的不安。于是，她没有叫我接着练台词，而是问我想不想到院子里走走。
那是一个美好的春日，篱笆上的玫瑰藤都已慢慢变绿了。在那棵大榆树下，我们看见一簇簇黄色的蒲公英从草丛中冒出来，就像一位画家为我们的山水画添上了一抹金黄。
我看见妈妈在一簇花草旁弯下腰来。“我想我应该把这些杂草全部拔掉。”她一边说着，一边连根拔起一簇盛开的花。“从今往后，我们的花园里只有玫瑰。”
“可我喜欢蒲公英，”我抗议道，“所有的花儿都美丽，即使是蒲公英。”
妈妈十分严肃地看着我。“是啊，每朵花都用自己的方式展示它的美，难道不是吗？”她若有所思地问道。我点点头，很高兴自己说服了妈妈。“人也是一样的，”她补充说道，“不是每个人都能成为公主，这没什么可丢脸的。”
原来，她早就猜到了我的烦恼。我松了口气，哭着把整件事情告诉了她。她一边听一边微笑着安慰我。
“你会成为最美的旁白，”她说道，还提醒我以前我有多喜欢大声给她朗读故事，“旁白的部分和公主的角色一样重要。”
接下来的几个星期，在她的不断鼓励下，我慢慢为饰演旁白这个角色感到骄傲。至于午餐时间嘛，不是朗读我的台词，就是讨论表演时要穿什么服装。
演出那天晚上，我在后台感到十分紧张。表演开始前的几分钟，老师走到我身边。“你的妈妈让我把这个交给你。”她边说边递给我一朵蒲公英。蒲公英的边是卷的，整个花茎也都死气沉沉。我匆匆瞥了一眼，知道妈妈就在外面。我想起午餐时候我们的谈话，一股自豪感油然而生。
演出结束后，我把那朵蒲公英塞进演出服的口袋里带回家。妈妈用两张纸压平它，然后夹进字典里。她笑着说：“这世上也许只有我们愿意把一棵毫不起眼的小草好好地夹起来。”
如今，沐浴在和煦的午后阳光里，我时常会想起我们一起度过的午餐时间。它们就像是我童年生活里的小逗号，这些停顿让我懂得：生活的真正滋味并非来自于预先估好的增额，而是来自于和爱人共享的日常琐事和小小快乐。
花生酱三明治和巧克力曲奇让我懂得：爱，最原始的和最重要的，是关注那些微不足道的小事。
几个月前，妈妈来看我。我请了一天假陪她吃午饭。午饭时餐馆里挤满了人，一群商人边吃饭边谈生意，还时不时地瞄一眼腕上的手表。我和退休的妈妈就坐在这群人的中间。从她脸上，我能看出她很羡慕上班族的工作节奏。
“妈，我小的时候您在家照顾我，肯定很厌烦吧！”我说。
“厌烦？我是挺厌烦家务活的，可是你永远不会让我觉得厌烦。”
我不相信，于是接着说：“照顾孩子肯定不如工作那么具有挑战性！”
“工作的确更有挑战性，”她说，“我很开心我曾经有过一份工作。可是工作就像一个开口气球，只有不断吹气才能让它变大。但是孩子像一粒种子，只要你给它浇水，细心照料它，它就会自己长大，变成一朵美丽的花儿。”
All or nothing,now or never.
宁为玉碎，不为瓦全。机不可失，失不再来。