Mother & Child

It was Christmas 1961. I was teaching in a small town in Ohio where my twenty-seven third graders eagerly anticipated the GREat day of gifts giving.

媽媽與孩子

那是1961年的圣誕節(jié)。我在俄亥俄州的一個(gè)小鎮(zhèn)上教小學(xué)三年級(jí)。班上27個(gè)孩子都在積極參加"禮物贈(zèng)送日"的活動(dòng)。

A tree covered with tinsel and gaudy paper chains graced one corner. In another rested a manger scene produced from cardboard and poster paints by chubby, and sometimes grubby, hands. Someone had brought a doll and placed it on the straw in the cardboard box that served as the manger. It didn’t matter that you could pull a string and hear the blue-eyed, golden-haired dolly say, "My name is Susie." "But Jesus was a boy baby!" one of the boys proclaimed. Nonetheless, Susie stayed.

教室的一角被一棵樹裝點(diǎn)得熠熠生輝，樹上綴滿了金銀絲帛和華麗的彩紙。教室的另一角是一個(gè)涂著海報(bào)油彩由紙板制成的馬槽，這出自孩子們那胖乎乎、臟兮兮的小手。有人帶來(lái)了一個(gè)娃娃，把它放在紙板槽里的稻草上(假裝小耶穌)。只要拉拉它身上的一條細(xì)繩，這個(gè)藍(lán)眼睛、金發(fā)的娃娃就會(huì)說(shuō)道，"我叫蘇西"，不過(guò)這都沒有關(guān)系。一個(gè)男孩提出："耶穌可是個(gè)小男孩呀!"不過(guò)蘇西還是留了下來(lái)。

Each day the children produced some new wonder -- strings of popcorn, hand-made trinkets, and German bells made from wallpaper samples, which we hung from the ceiling. Through it all she remained aloof, watching from afar, seemingly miles away. I wondered what would happen to this quiet child, once so happy, now so suddenly withdrawn. I hoped the festivities would appeal to her. But nothing did. We made cards and gifts for mothers and dads, for sisters and brothers, for grandparents, and for each other. At home the students made the popular fried marbles and vied with one another to bring in the prettiest ones. " You put them in a hot frying pan, Teacher. And you let them get real hot, and then you watch what happens inside. But you don’t fry them too long or they break."So, as my gift to them, I made each of my students a little pouch for carrying their fried marbles. And I knew they had each made something for me: bookmarks carefully cut, colored, and sometimes pasted together; cards and special drawings; liquid embroidery doilies, hand-fringed, of course.

每天孩子們都會(huì)做點(diǎn)兒新玩意--爆米花串成的細(xì)鏈子、手工做的小裝飾品和墻紙樣做的德國(guó)式風(fēng)鈴，我們把這些風(fēng)鈴掛在了天花板上。但自始至終，她都是孤零零地遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)觀望，仿佛是隔了一道幾里長(zhǎng)的障礙。我猜想著這個(gè)沉默的孩子發(fā)生了什么事，原來(lái)那個(gè)快樂(lè)的孩子怎么突然變得沉默寡言起來(lái)。我希望節(jié)日的活動(dòng)能吸引她，可還是無(wú)濟(jì)于事。我們制作了許多卡片和禮物，準(zhǔn)備把它們送給爸爸媽媽、兄弟姐妹、祖父母和身邊的同學(xué)。學(xué)生們?cè)诩依镒隽水?dāng)時(shí)很流行“油炸"玻璃彈子，并且相互比著，要把最好看的拿來(lái)。"老師，把玻璃彈子放在熱油鍋里，讓它們燒熱，然后看看里面的變化。但不要炸得時(shí)間過(guò)長(zhǎng)否則會(huì)破裂。"所以，我給每個(gè)學(xué)生做了一個(gè)裝"油炸彈子"的小袋作為禮物送給他們。我知道他們每個(gè)人也都為我做了禮物：仔細(xì)剪裁、著色，或已粘集成串的書簽;賀卡和特別繪制的圖片;透明的鑲邊碗碟墊布，當(dāng)然是手工編制的流蘇。

the day of gift-giving finally came. We oohed and aahed over our handiwork as the presents were exchanged. Through it all, she sat quietly watching. I had made a special pouch for her, red and GREen with white lace. I wanted very much to see her smile. She opened the package so slowly and carefully. I waited but she turned away. I had not penetrated the wall of isolation she had built around herself.

贈(zèng)送禮物的那天終于到了。在交換禮物時(shí)我們?yōu)閷?duì)方親手做的小禮品不停地歡呼叫好。而整個(gè)過(guò)程，她只是安靜地坐在那兒看著。我為她做的小袋很特別，紅綠相間還鑲著白邊。我非常想看到她笑一笑。她打開包裝，動(dòng)作又慢又小心。我等待著，但是她卻轉(zhuǎn)過(guò)了身。我還是沒能穿過(guò)她在自己周圍樹起的高墻，這堵墻將她與大家隔離了開來(lái)。

After school the children left in little groups, chattering about the GREat day yet to come when long-hoped-for two-wheelers and bright sleds would appear beside their trees at home. She lingered, watching them bundle up and go out the door. I sat down in a child-sized chair to catch my breath, hardly aware of what was happening, when she came to me with outstretched hands, bearing a small white box, unwrapped and slightly soiled, as though it had been held many times by unwashed, childish hands. She said nothing. "For me?" I asked with a weak smile. She said not a word, but nodded her head. I took the box and gingerly opened it. There inside, glistening green, a fried marble hung from a golden chain. Then I looked into that elderly eight-year-old face and saw the question in her dark brown eyes. In a FLASH I knew -- she had made it for her mother, a mother she would never see again, a mother who would never hold her or brush her hair or share a funny story, a mother who would never again hear her childish joys or sorrows. A mother who had taken her own life just three weeks before.

放學(xué)后，學(xué)生們?nèi)齻z倆地離開了，邊走邊說(shuō)著即將到來(lái)的圣誕節(jié)：家中的圣誕樹旁將發(fā)現(xiàn)自己心系已久的自行車和嶄新發(fā)亮的雪橇。她慢慢地走在后面，看著大家擁擠著走出門外。我坐在孩子們的小椅子上稍稍松了口氣，對(duì)要發(fā)生的事沒有一點(diǎn)準(zhǔn)備。這時(shí)她向我走來(lái)，雙手拿著一個(gè)白色的盒子向我伸過(guò)來(lái)。盒子沒有打包裝，稍有些臟。好像是被孩子未洗過(guò)的小手摸過(guò)了好多遍。她沒有說(shuō)話。"給我的嗎?"我微微一笑。她沒出聲，只是點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭。我接過(guò)盒子，非常小心地打開它。盒子里面有一條金色的鏈子，上面墜著一塊閃閃發(fā)光的“油炸"玻璃彈子。然后我看著她的臉，雖只有8歲，可卻是成人的表情。在她深棕色的眼睛里我找到了問(wèn)題的答案。我在一瞬間明白過(guò)來(lái)--這是她為媽媽做的項(xiàng)鏈。

I held out the chain. She took it in both her hands, reached forward, and secured the simple clasp at the back of my neck. She stepped back then as if to see that all was well. I looked down at the shiny piece of glass and the tarnished golden chain, then back at the giver. I meant it when I whispered," Oh, Maria, it is so beautiful. She would have loved it."Neither of us could stop the tears. She stumbled into my arms and we wept together. And for that brief moment I became her mother, for she had given me the GREatest gift of all: herself.

我拿起那條鏈子。她用雙手接過(guò)它，向前探了探身，在我的脖子后把簡(jiǎn)易的項(xiàng)鏈鉤系好。然后她向后退了幾步，好像在看看是否合適。我低下頭看著閃閃發(fā)亮的玻璃珠和已失去光澤的金色鏈子，然后抬起頭望著她。我很認(rèn)真地輕聲說(shuō)道：“哦，瑪麗亞，這鏈子真漂亮。你媽媽一定會(huì)喜歡的。"我們已無(wú)法抑制住淚水。她踉踉蹌蹌地?fù)溥M(jìn)我的懷里，我們都哭了。在那短暫的一刻我成了她的媽媽，而她送給了我一份最珍貴的禮物：她的信任和愛。