W.W.米德/W.W.Meade
One winter evening as I sat reading, my young son, Luke, approached my chair in shy silence. He stood just outside the half-moon of light made by an old brass student lamp I cherish. It once lighted my doctor father's office desk.
In those days, Luke liked to approach me with his most serious problems when I was reading. The year before, he did this whenever I was working in the garden. Perhaps, he felt most at ease with difficulties when I was doing what he was getting ready to do. When he was interested in growing things, he learned to plant seeds and leave them in the ground instead of digging them up the very next morning to see if they had grown. Now he was beginning to read to himself-although he wouldn't admit to me that he could do that.
I looked up from my paper, and he gave me his wide-open grin. Then his expression turned abruptly serious, a not-too-flattering imitation of me.“I broke my saw,”he said, withdrawing the toy from behind his back.“Here.”
He didn't ask if I could fix it. His trust that I could was a compliment from a small boy to the miracle fixer of tricycles, wagons and assorted toys. The saw's blue plastic handle had snapped. My father, who treasured the tools of all professions, would not have approved of a plastic-handled saw.
I said,“There are pieces missing. Do you have them?”
He opened his clenched fist to reveal the remaining fragments. I did not see how the saw could be properly mended.
He watched me intently, his expression revealing absolute confidence that I could do anything. That look stirred memories. I examined the saw with great care, turning over the broken pieces in my hands as I turned over the past in my mind.
When I was seven, I'd gone to my father's office after school one November day. My father was clearly the best doctor within a thousand miles of the small Ohio River town where we lived. He always astonished me-and his patients-by the things he could do. He could not only heal whatever was the matter with anyone, but he could also break a horse, carve a top and slide down Long Hill on my sled, standing up!I liked to hang around his waiting room and hear people call me“little Doc”,and I liked the way his patients always looked better when they left his office.
But on this day, when I was seven, my purpose was to see my best friend, Jimmy Hardesty. He hadn't been in school for three days, and his mother had sent word to my father's nurse that she just might bring Jimmy in to see the doctor today.
When the last of the afternoon's patients had gone, Jimmy had still not arrived. My father and I then went off to make house calls. He liked to have me with him, because he liked to tell stories when he drove. It was nearly seven when we finished. As we started home, my father said suddenly,“Let's go up and check on old Jimmy.”I felt squirmy with gratitude, certain that my father was doing this just to please me. But when we came in sight of the old gray stone house, there was a light in the upstairs back window and another on the back porch-the ancient beacons of trouble.
My father pulled the car right into the dooryard. Alice, Jimmy's older sister, came running out of the house and threw her arms around my father, crying and shaking and trying to talk.“Oh, Doc. Jimmy's dying!Dad's chasing all over the county looking for you. Thank goodness you're here.”
My father never ran. He used to say there was no good reason to hurry. If you had to hurry, it was too late. But he told Alice to let go of him, and he ran then. I followed them through the yeasty-smelling kitchen and up the narrow, dark hall stairs. Jimmy was breathing very fast and made a high, airy sound. He had mounds of quilts piled over him, so that I could barely see his face in the flickering light of the kerosene lamps. He looked all worn out and his skin glistened.
His mother said,“Oh, Doc. Help us. It was just a little cold, then this afternoon he started this terrible sweat.”
I had never seen Jimmy's mother without an apron on before. She stood behind me, both her hands on my shoulders, as my father listened to Jimmy's chest. He fixed a hypodermic and held the needle up to the light. I was certain that it was the miracle we all must have. My father gave Jimmy the shot. He then got a gauze pad from his black case and put it over Jimmy's mouth. He bent over him and began to breathe with him. No one moved in that room and there was no other sound except the steady pushing of my father's breath and Jimmy's high, wheezing response.
Then suddenly as lightning, there was the awful sound of my father's breathing alone. I felt his mother's hands tighten on my shoulders and knew, as she knew, that something had snapped. But my father kept on breathing into Jimmy's lungs. After a long time, Mrs. Hardesty went over to the bed, put her hand on my father's arm and said, very quietly,“He's gone, Doe. Come away. My boy's not with us anymore.”But my father would not move.
Mrs. Hardesty took me by the hand then, and we went down to the kitchen. She sat in a rocker and Alice, looking as forlorn as I've ever seen anybody look, threw herself on her mother's lap. I went out onto the porch and sat down on the top step in the cold darkness. I wanted no one to see or hear me.
When Mr. Hardesty came back and saw our car, he went into the house and in a while I could hear voices. Then silence, then voices again. At last my father came outside, and I followed him to the car. All the lonely way into town, he said nothing to me. And I could not risk saying anything to him. The world I thought I knew lay sundered in my heart. We didn't go home. We went to his office instead. He began going through his books, looking for something he might have done. I wanted to stop him, but I didn't know how. I couldn't imagine how the night would end. From time to time, all unwilling, I would begin to cry again. Finally, I heard someone at the door and went out through the reception room, grateful to whomever it might be. News of the beginnings and endings of life traveled far and fast in a community like ours. My mother had come for us.
She knelt down, hugged me, rubbed the back of my head, and I clung to her, as I had not done since I was a baby.“Oh, Mama, why couldn't he, why couldn't he?”I wept and lay my head against her shoulder. She rubbed my back until I was quiet. Then she said,“Your father is bigger than you are, but he's smaller than life. We love him for what he can do;we don't love him less for what he can't. Love accepts what it finds, no matter what.”
Even though I'm not certain I understood what she meant, I know I felt the importance of what she said. Then she went in to get my father. That winter seemed to have gone on forever when I lived through it long ago, but the memory played it out in seconds.
I sat turning over the pieces of Luke's broken toy. I said to him,“I can't fix it.”
“Sure you can.”
“No, I can't. I'm sorry.”
He looked at me, and the expression of awesome confidence faded. His lower lip trembled, and he fought his tears even as they came.
I pulled him on my lap, and comforted him as best I could in his sorrow over his broken toy and his fallen idol. Gradually his crying subsided. I was certain he sensed my melancholy at seeing myself only an ordinary mortal in his eyes, because he stayed nestled against me for quite a time, his arm about my neck.
As he left the room, giving me a direct and friendly look, I could hear my mother's voice telling me in her certain way that love was not conditional. Once the son, now the father. I knew absolutely that out of the anguish of that discovery came the first faint light of understanding.
一个冬天的傍晚,我坐着看报纸的时候,小儿子卢克怯生生地来到我的身旁。他就站在那盏古铜灯照射出的半月形灯光外。我很珍爱那盏灯,它曾在我做医生的父亲的办公桌上亮着。
那段时间里,卢克喜欢在我读书的时候来到我的身边,向我询问他的最严肃的问题。而在去年,当我在花园里工作的时候,他也会这样找我问问题。或许他觉得我们一起做事情时,找我解决问题最容易吧。当他对种植感兴趣时,他知道要将种子埋在地下,而不是每天早上把它们挖出来,看看种子是否长大了。现在,尽管他不肯向我承认,但是卢克的确可以开始自己看书了。
我从报纸中抬起头来,卢克给了我一个大大的微笑。接下来,他的表情突然变得严肃起来,这是模仿我的一个不大招人喜欢的举动。他说:“我把我的锯条弄折了。”说着从背后拿出那只玩具递给我,“您看。”
他没有问我能不能把它修好。他相信我能,这种信任,是一个小男孩对一位神奇的三轮车、货车和各种玩具修理师的赞美。那把玩具锯的蓝色塑料柄断了。我的父亲很珍惜各种职业用的工具,他是不会同意买一把塑料柄的锯的。
我对儿子说:“锯上的一些零件不见了,在你那里吗?”
他张开紧握的拳头,摊出握在手中的剩余碎片给我看。我不知道怎样能把这把锯修理好。
他认真地看着我,他的表情显示出一种对我无所不能的绝对信任,搅动了我的记忆。我极其用心地察看了他的锯,在手中翻看着那些碎片,也在脑海中翻动着对过去的记忆。
七岁那年11月里的一天,我放学后去了爸爸的办公室。显然,父亲是我们所居住的俄亥俄河镇方圆一千英里之内最好的医生。他所做的每件力所能及的事,总是让我和他的病人感到惊讶。父亲不仅能治愈人们的疾病,还能驯服烈马,能在我的雪橇上雕刻出长山的山顶和山脉曲线。他太棒了!我喜欢在他的候诊室里逗留,喜欢听人们喊我“小医生”,我还喜欢看到他的病人从他的办公室离开时气色有了转变。
然而,在我七岁的这一天,我本来是去看望我最好的朋友吉米·哈德斯蒂的。他已经有三天没去上学了,他的母亲对我父亲的护士说,今天有可能带吉米来看病。
当下午最后的一位病人也离开的时候,吉米还是没有来。于是,我便跟父亲一起外出应诊了。父亲愿意我跟着他,因为他开车的时候喜欢给我讲故事。应完诊时已将近七点。我们出发要回家时,父亲突然对我说:“我们去看看你的老朋友吉米吧。”父亲这样做,只是为了让我高兴,我对他充满了感激。但是当那所破旧的灰色石房进入视线时,我们看到楼上的窗子后面和后面的走廊都亮着灯。这是报告遇到麻烦的古老的信号。
父亲把车一直开到了前院。吉米的姐姐艾丽丝从房间里跑出来,抱住了父亲。她全身颤抖地哭泣着,还尽力哭诉道:“医生,吉米快要死了!我父亲正满村子找你。谢天谢地,你来了。”
父亲从来没有快跑过。他过去常说,没有必要急急忙忙的。如果你赶时间了,事实上事情已经来不及了。然而,父亲让艾丽丝放开他,让他跑进去。我跟随父亲穿过有发酵气味的厨房,走上狭窄、黑暗的走廊台阶。吉米的呼吸很急促,“吁吁”的声音很响。他身上盖着好几床被子,以至于在煤油灯闪烁的灯光中,我几乎看不到他的脸。他看上去筋疲力尽,脸色也憔悴不堪。
他的母亲对我父亲说:“医生,快帮帮我们。他原本只是得了小感冒,在今天下午开始大量地出汗。”
我先前从来没见过吉米的母亲腰上不系着围裙。在父亲听吉米的胸腔时,她站在我身后,双手搭在我的肩上。父亲准备好了一针皮下注射剂,把针筒举到灯光下。我坚信,它一定能创造我们所有人期待的奇迹。父亲为吉米打了针,接着从黑色手提箱中拿出纱布块,把它覆盖在吉米的嘴上,弯下身为吉米做人工呼吸。整个房间都是静止的,除了父亲的呼气声和吉米沉重高亢的呼吸声之外,再没有任何声音。
突然,房间里那可怕的声音只剩下父亲一个人的呼吸声。我感觉到,她母亲放在我肩膀上的手握紧了,我同她一样,都知道有某种东西破碎了。然而,父亲还在继续为吉米做着人工呼吸。很长的一段时间过后,哈德斯蒂太太走到床边,把手放在父亲的胳膊上,静静地说道:“医生,他走了。算了吧。我的孩子已不再与我们同在了。”可是,父亲还是没有走开。
后来,哈德斯蒂太太拉着我的手来到厨房。她坐在摇椅上,艾丽丝则落寞地扑到母亲的怀里。我走到走廊外面,在寒冷的黑夜里,坐在最高的那级台阶上,不想被任何人看到或听到。
哈德斯蒂先生回来看到我们的车子,就立即钻进了房里。有一段时间,我可以听到房间里的声音,后来就是安静,接着又是一阵说话的声音。最后,父亲从房间里出来,我跟着他上了车。回镇里的一路上,父亲一句话也没有对我讲。我也不敢贸然地跟他说上一句。我原以为自己知晓的世界在心里土崩瓦解。我们没有回家,而是去了他的办公室。父亲开始查阅书籍,要寻找一些可以解决的方法。我想要阻止他,但又不知道该如何阻止。我不敢想象,这个夜晚将如何结束。有时,我会忍不住哭起来。最后,我听到门外有人来了,接着是走过候诊室的声音。我对来人充满了感激,不管他是谁。出生与死亡的消息在我们这样的小镇上传得很快。母亲来这里找我们。
母亲蹲下身来抱住我,抚摸着我的后脑勺,我像小时候那样紧紧抱着母亲。“妈妈,为什么他不能救他,为什么他做不到?”我把头靠在她的肩上哭着。母亲一直抚摸着我的背,直到我平静下来。然后她说:“尽管你父亲比你高大,但他比生命渺小。我们因其所能而爱他,却不会因为他的不能而少爱他几分。爱可以接受一切,不管你发现的是什么。”
尽管我不能确定自己领会了她的意思,但是我的确感受到了她的话的重要性。后来,母亲便进去看父亲。多年前我度过的那个冬天似乎已经永远地消逝了,但是记忆又在数秒之内将其在心头上演。
我坐着,翻看着卢克坏掉的玩具的零件,对他说:“我修不好它。”
“您一定可以的。”
“不,我修不好。对不起。”
他看着我,脸上那种可敬的坚信的表情没有了。他的下唇颤抖着,当泪水涌出的时候,他还极力克制着自己不哭。
我把他抱到腿上,尽可能地安慰着他因玩具坏了、失去偶像的悲伤。他的哭泣渐渐平息下来。知道自己在他眼里只是个平凡之人,我感到很忧伤,我可以肯定,他察觉到了我的忧郁,因为他搂着我的脖子,在我的怀里依偎了好久。
当他离开房间的时候,他给了我一个率直的、友好的眼神,我似乎听到母亲的声音,她用自己的方式告诉我,爱是没有任何附加条件的。昔为人子,今为人父。我完全明白,发现真相的痛苦会带来第一道理解的微弱之光。
词汇笔记
abruptly[?'br?ptli]adv.突然地;唐突地
The Constellation disciples were startled to see someone abruptly come out from behind the rock.
星宿派诸弟子见岩石之后突然有人现身,都是愕然失色。
clenched[klent?d]adv.紧握的
He flourished his clenched fist at her.
他对她挥舞握紧的拳头。
intently[in'tentli]adv.一心一意地;心无旁骛地;专心地
She is always listening intently in class.
上课的时候,她总是认真听讲。
beacon['bi:k?n]n.烟火;灯塔
The plane homed in on the radio beacon.
飞机遵循导航台的信号降落。
小试身手
他的表情显示出一种对我无所不能的绝对信任。
译____________________________
我原以为自己知晓的世界在心里土崩瓦解。
译____________________________
发现真相的痛苦会带来第一道理解的微弱之光。
译____________________________
短语家族
But when we came in sight of the old gray stone house.
in sight of:看得见;在看得见……的地方;临近;在望
造____________________________
But my father kept on breathing into Jimmy's lungs.
keep on:继续进行;反复地做;持续不断;保持
造____________________________