罗伯特·富尔古姆/Robert Fulghum
The cardboard box is marked“The Good Stuff”.The box contains those odds and ends of personal treasures that have survived many bouts of clean-it-out-and-throw-it-away that seize me from time to time. A thief looking into the box would not take anything. But if the house ever catches on fire, the box goes with me when I run.
One of the keepsakes in the box is a small paper bag. Lunch size. Though the top is sealed with duct tape, staples and several paper clips, there is a ragged rip in one side through which the contents may be seen.
This particular lunch sack has been in my care for maybe 14 years. But it really belongs to my daughter, Molly. Soon after she came of school age, she became an enthusiastic participant in packing lunches for herself, her brothers and me. Each bag got a share of sandwiches, apples, milk money and sometimes a note or a treat. One morning, Molly handed me two bags. One regular lunch sack and the one with the duct tape and staples and paper clips.
“Why two bags?”
“The other one is something else.”
“What's in it?”
“Just some stuff-take it with you.”I stuffed both sacks into my briefcase, kissed the child and rushed off.
At midday, while hurriedly scarfing down my real lunch, I tore open Molly's bag and shook out the contents. Two hair ribbons, three small stones, a plastic dinosaur, a pencil stub, a tiny seashell, two animal crackers, a marble, a used lipstick, a small doll, two chocolate kisses and 13 pennies.
I smiled. How charming. Rising to hustle off, I swept the desk clean into the wastebasket-leftover lunch, Molly's junk and all. There wasn't anything in there I needed.
That evening Molly came to stand beside me while I was reading the paper.
“Where's my bag?”
“What bag?”
“You know, the one I gave you this morning.”
“I left it at the office, why?”
“I forgot to put this note in it.”She handed over the note,“Besides, I want it back.”
“Why?”
“Those are my things in the sack, Daddy, the ones I really like. I thought you might like to play with them, but now I want them back. You didn't lose the bag, did you, Daddy?”Tears puddled in her eyes.
“Oh, no. I just forgot to bring it home,”I lied,“Bring it tomorrow. Okay?”
As she hugged my neck with relief, I unfolded the note that had not gotten into the sack,“I love you, Daddy.”
Oh. And uh-oh.
I looked long at the face of my child.
Molly had given me her treasures. All that a 7-year-old held dear. Love in a paper sack. And I had missed it. Not only missed it, but had thrown it away because“there wasn't anything in there I needed.”
It wasn't the first or the last time I felt my Daddy permit was about to run out.
It was a long trip back to the office. The pilgrimage of a penitent. I picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on my desk. I was sorting it all out when the janitor came in to do his chores.
“Lose something?”
“Yes, my mind.”
“It's probably in there, all right. What's it look like, and I'll help you find it.”I started not to tell him. But I couldn't feel any more of a fool than I was already in fact, so I told him.
He didn't laugh.“I got kids, too.”So the brotherhood of fools searched the trash and found the jewels, and he smiled at me and I smiled at him.
After washing the mustard off the dinosaur and spraying the whole thing with breath freshener to kill the smell of onions, I carefully smoothed out the wadded ball of brown paper into a semifunctional bag and put the treasures inside. I carried it home gingerly, like an injured kitten. The next evening, I returned it to Molly. No questions asked, no explanations offered.
After dinner I asked her to tell me about the stuff in the sack, and so she took it all out a piece at a time and placed the objects in a row on the dining room table. Everything had a story, a memory or was attached to dreams and imaginary friends. I managed to say,“I see”very wisely several times. And, as a matter of fact, I did see.
To my surprise, Molly gave the bag to me once again several days later. Same ratty bag. Same stuff inside. I felt forgiven. And trusted. And loved. And a little more comfortable wearing the title of Father. Over several months, the bag went with me from time to time. It was never clear to me why I did or did not get it on a given day.
In time Molly turned her attention to other things-found other treasures, lost interest in the game, grew up.
Me?I was left holding the bag. She gave it to me one morning and never asked for its return. And so I have it still.
The worn paper sack is there in the box. Left from a time when a child said,“Here-this is the best I've got-take it-it's yours. Such as I have, give I to thee.”
纸板箱上面写着“好东西”，箱子里有一些零碎的东西和私人宝贝。这个箱子经历了多次大扫除，却仍然被我保存了下来。小偷如果看看箱子，也不会带走里面的任何东西。但是如果房子着火了，我肯定会带着这只箱子跑出来。
箱子里有一个纪念品，是一个午餐袋大小的小纸袋。虽然袋子上面粘着胶带，钉着订书钉，别着一些回形针，但还是可以从侧面粗糙的裂缝中看到里面的东西。
这个特别的午餐袋我已经珍藏了大概14年了。实际上，它是我女儿莫莉的。她到了学龄后，就十分热衷于为自己、弟弟们还有我装午餐。每个袋子里有一份三明治、几个苹果和买牛奶的钱，有时还夹着一张字条或是一点非常好吃的东西。一天早上，莫莉递给我两个袋子，一个是平时的午餐袋，另一个粘着胶带，钉着订书钉，还别着一些回形针。
“为什么有两个袋子啊？”
“那个装的是其他东西。”
“什么呀？”
“就是一些东西——你带着吧。”我把两个袋子都装进公文包，亲了她一下，然后匆匆走了。
中午，我狼吞虎咽地吃完午餐后，撕开莫莉的袋子，把里面的东西倒出来：两根发带，三块小石头，一个塑料恐龙，一截铅笔，一个小贝壳，两块动物形状的小薄饼，一颗弹珠，一支用过的唇膏，一个小娃娃，两块心形巧克力和13美分。
我笑了，真可爱。我很快起身，清理了一下桌子，把上面的东西都扔进了废纸篓——没吃完的午餐和莫莉的那些东西，那些我都不需要。
那天晚上我看报的时候，莫莉过来站在我旁边。
“我的袋子呢？”
“什么袋子？”
“你知道的，就是我早上给你的那个。”
“我把它放在办公室了。怎么啦？”
“我忘了把这个字条放进去了。”她把字条递给我，“还有，我想把袋子要回来。”
“为什么？”
“袋子里面都是我的东西，爸爸，都是我非常喜欢的东西。我想你会喜欢玩这些东西，不过现在我想把它们要回来。你没有把那个袋子丢掉，是吧，爸爸？”她眼泪汪汪的。
“哦，没有。我只是忘了把它带回家了，”我撒谎道，“我明天把它带回来，好吗？”
她如释重负地绕着我的脖子，我把字条打开，上面写着：“我爱你，爸爸。”
噢，天哪！
我久久地注视着女儿的脸。
莫莉把她的宝贝都给我了，一个七岁孩子珍视的所有东西。纸袋里面装的是她对我的爱，之前我却没有意识到。不仅没有意识到，还把它给扔了，因为“那些东西我都不需要”。
我觉得自己是个不称职的父亲，这已不是第一次了，当然，也不会是最后一次。
去办公室的路显得格外漫长。就像一个悔过者前往朝圣的漫长之旅。我走进办公室，拿起纸篓，把里面的东西一股脑儿地倒在桌上。正当我分类清理这些东西时，管理员进来准备倒垃圾。
“丢了什么东西吗？”
“是的，丢了我的心。”
“也许在这儿呢。是什么样子的，我来帮你找找看。”我开始不想告诉他，但是我觉得自己已经是个大傻瓜了，于是我就告诉了他。
他没有笑。“我也有孩子。”怀着同样的感受，我们在垃圾里搜寻，终于把那些宝贝找了出来，我们相视而笑。
我把恐龙上的芥末洗掉，用空气清新剂把所有的东西喷了一遍，以去掉洋葱的味道，然后仔细地把揉成一团的牛皮纸弄平整，使它看上去还像个袋子，最后把那些宝贝都放进去。我小心翼翼地把它带回家，就像抱着一只受伤的小猫。晚上，我把它还给了莫莉。她没问什么，我也没说什么。
晚饭后，我叫她把袋子里东西的来历讲给我听。于是，她一件一件地把它们拿出来，在餐桌上摆成一列。每件东西都有一个故事、一段回忆或与梦想和幻想中的朋友有关。几次我都适时地附和着“我明白了”。实际上，我也确实明白了。
令我惊奇的是，几天后，莫莉又把这个袋子给了我，同样破旧的袋子，里面装着同样的东西。我感到自己被宽恕了，感受到了女儿对自己的信赖和爱，也对自己接受“父亲”这一头衔心安理得些了。此后几个月，我经常随身带着这个袋子。我不清楚为什么开始没得到它，后来又得到了。
莫莉长大了，把注意力转移到其他事情上——她发现了其他的珍宝，对这个游戏失去了兴趣。
我呢？还保存着那个袋子。一天早上，她把袋子给我了，再也没有要回去。所以，我至今还珍藏着它。
破旧的纸袋仍然放在箱子里。是一次一个孩子说：“嘿——这是我的宝贝——拿着吧——给你的。就像我曾经拥有的一样，现在我把它给你。”
词汇笔记
keepsake['ki:pseik]n.纪念品
He gave me his picture as a keepsake before going away.
他在离开前送我一张照片作为纪念。
enthusiastic[in,θju:zi'?stik]adj.热情的；热心的
She received an enthusiastic ovation from the audience.
她获得观众热烈的欢迎。
dinosaur['dain?s?：]n.恐龙
The natural history museum have a special exhibition of dinosaur.
自然历史博物馆专门办了一次恐龙展览。
relief[ri'li:f]n.减轻；解除
It is a great relief to have rain after a long time of drought.
长期的干旱之后，有雨是一大慰藉。
小试身手
莫莉把她的宝贝都给我了，一个七岁孩子珍视的所有东西。
译____________________________
我小心翼翼地把它带回家，就像抱着一只受伤的小猫。
译____________________________
我感到自己被宽恕了，感受到了女儿对自己的信赖和爱。
译____________________________
短语家族
But it really belongs to my daughter, Molly.
belong to：属于；附属；属；归于
造____________________________
It was about to run out.
run out：用光；结束；变得缺乏；到期
造____________________________