爱在无语时 Words from a Father
佚名/Anonymous
In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying good-bye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.
It was a transitional time in Daniel's life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.
But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.
What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw colour flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me-as he did now.
What is it going to be like, Dad?Can I do it?Will I be okay?And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.
A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.
In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life. Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like,“Hope you feel better Dan.”And I left.
Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass?A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don't seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.
How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA.，in 1962，slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and agile, and he became adept in sports.
Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team's games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team's most valuable player.
His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.
It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work-their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn't answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.
By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.
One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn't take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.
Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn't so crazy. After graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.
The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn't necessary to say anything.
What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him?But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart?My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.
“Daniel,”I said,“if I could have picked, I would have picked you.”That's all I could say. I wasn't sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea. He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn't understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.
That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank caf é.What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.
在家门口，我目不转睛地看着23岁的儿子丹尼尔的脸，他把背包放在身旁。我们正在道别，几个小时后他将飞往法国，在那里生活一年。他要学习另一种语言——法语，并将在一个陌生的国度，体验一种全新的生活。
对丹尼尔来说，这是一个过渡时期，也是他走出象牙塔，迈入成人社会的第一步。我希望赠给他几句话，几句能让他受益终生的话。
但最终我还是一句没说出口。我们的房子位于海边，此刻屋内一片寂静。屋外，海鸥盘旋在波涛汹涌的长岛海域上空，不停地尖叫着。我就这样呆呆地站着，默默地注视着儿子那双充满渴盼的双眸。
令我困窘的是，我已不是第一次让宝贵的时间这样白白地从我身边溜走了。丹尼尔5岁时，幼儿园开学的第一天，我带他来到校车站点。当校车出现在拐弯处时，他的小手把我紧紧地攥住，我明显地感觉到了他的不安。校车到站那一刻，丹尼尔满脸通红，望着我——就像现在这样。
以后会怎样呢，爸爸？我能行吗？我会令您满意吗？他边上车边说着，很快脱离了我的视线。车开走了，我却始终一句话也没能说出口。
10余年后，类似的场景又一次重现。我和妻子开车送丹尼尔去弗吉尼亚的威廉玛丽学院上学。到学校的第一个晚上，丹尼尔就和他的新同学一起外出了，次日早晨我们再见他时，他病了。其实当时他体内的白血球已经在开始增多，而我们却并不知晓。以为他只是酒喝多了。
当我准备启程回家时，丹尼尔正躺在宿舍的床上。我很想对他说些鼓励的话，激发他面对新生活的勇气和信心，但我再一次语塞，只是嘀咕了一句“愿你早日康复，丹尼尔”就转身走了。
此刻，我站在丹尼尔面前，回想起那些被错过的时刻。感叹我们曾让多少宝贵的时光白白流逝啊！从儿子的毕业典礼到女儿的婚礼，太多太多了。我们参加了那些重要的仪式，但却从未将孩子从人群中找出来，拉到安静的角落，亲口对他们说，他们对于我们来说有多么重要，也从未与他们探讨过未来的道路。
时间过得真快啊！1962年，小丹尼尔出生在洛杉矶的新奥尔良。与同龄的其他孩子相比，他学走路和说话都很晚，个头也不高。尽管他是班级里最瘦小的，但是他性格外向，热情开朗，很受欢迎。由于他动作协调性好且身手敏捷，不久便成了运动健将。
棒球运动是丹尼尔一生面对的最早的一项挑战。他是少儿棒球队一名出色的投手。上高三时，他就率队南征北战，所向披靡，曾创下了七局五胜的纪录。在毕业典礼上，棒球队教练授予他“最有价值的球员”称号。
一次校园举办科技展览会，那算是丹尼尔最辉煌的时刻了。他带着他的循环电路系统参加了那次展览。其他同学的参展作品非常新奇，大多是些由电脑操控的、熠熠发光的模型，与他们相比，丹尼尔的作品真是相形见绌，就连我的妻子莎拉都替儿子感到尴尬。
我们后来才知道，其他孩子的作品都是父母代做，而并非他们亲手完成的。现场评委们评审时发现，那些孩子对自己的参展作品一问三不知，只有丹尼尔能对答如流。于是，他们把“最佳作品”这一奖项颁给了丹尼尔，并授予他“阿尔伯特·爱因斯坦”奖牌。
丹尼尔刚入大学时已身高6英尺，体重170磅，俨然一个男子汉。放弃棒球选择英国文学后，身强体壮的丹尼尔就再也没接触过棒球。他放弃自己的体育特长，我深感惋惜，同时也为他能慎重地作出这样的决定而骄傲。
一天，我告诉丹尼尔，我没能在大学毕业时抽出一两年时间去旅游，为此我一直感到遗憾。我认为旅游是开拓视野、练达人性的最佳途径。工作成家后，体验异域文化的这种梦想自然就会被抛至九霄云外。
丹尼尔若有所思。他的朋友曾对他说，为了旅游而荒废事业，是不明智之举。然而，他发誓他不会疯狂到荒废事业的地步。毕业后，他在大学餐厅里当服务生，骑单车送报纸，还做过油漆工。他用打工赚得的钱，凑够了去巴黎的路费。
丹尼尔离开的前一天晚上，我躺在床上翻来覆去难以入眠。我想理一下思路，想好明天该对他说的话，大脑却一片空白。也许根本就没必要说那些无聊的话，我安慰着自己。
一位父亲一生都没能告诉儿子自己对他的看法，那又怎样？可是，当我面对丹尼尔时，我却感觉将我对他的看法告知他是非常必要的。我和父亲彼此都深爱着对方，但我从未听过他的心里话，从没有一个感人的场面供我回忆。为此，我总是满腹遗憾。此时，我手心出汗，喉咙哽咽。难道对儿子说几句心里话就这么难吗？我口干舌燥，想必我顶多只能清晰地吐出几个字。
“丹尼尔，”我终于开口说话了，“如果上帝再给我一次选择儿子的机会，我仍会选择你。”千言万语都化做了这一句话。我不知道他是否理解了我的意思，但他扑过来将我抱住了。那一刻，世间一切都不复存在，只有我和丹尼尔站在海边我们家的小屋里。丹尼尔嘴里也说着什么，然而泪水模糊了我的双眼，他说的话我一个字也没听进去。只是当他的脸凑到我面前时，我感觉到了他下巴上的胡子楂儿。而后，一切又恢复正常。我继续我的工作，几小时后丹尼尔带着女朋友离开了。
转眼七周过去了，每每周末在海边散步，我都会想起丹尼尔。在这茫茫的大海对岸，几百英里以外的某个角落的丹尼尔，此刻也许正飞奔穿越圣热蒙大道，或者徘徊于卢浮宫内散发着霉味的走廊上，抑或是正托着腮坐在左岸咖啡馆里小憩。我对丹尼尔所说的那句话，虽晦涩又老套，似乎空洞无文，然而道出了我内心的一切真实感受。
心灵小语
亲爱的儿子，这里有一个爸爸对你最深沉最真切的爱！
词汇笔记
hangover['hæŋ,əuvə]n.残留物；遗物；宿醉
Oh, I can not do my work with this hangover.
啊，因为宿醉，工作做不下去。
adept['ædept,ə'dept]adj.熟练的；老练的
Helen is adept in music and her husband is adept in drawing.
海伦精通音乐，而她的丈夫擅长绘画。
embarrass[im'bærəst]v.使……困窘；使……局促不安；阻碍
She appears to be very embarrassed.
她显得很不好意思的样子。
superb[sju:'pə：b]adj.极好的
Thompson turned in a superb performance to win the decathlon.
汤普森在十项全能比赛中表现十分出色。
小试身手
我希望赠给他几句话，几句能让他受益终生的话。
译____________________________
校车到站那一刻，丹尼尔满脸通红，望着我——就像现在这样。
译____________________________
然而，他发誓他不会疯狂到荒废事业的地步。
译____________________________
短语家族
As the judges went on their rounds……
go on：继续；进行；发生
造____________________________
I didn't take a year or two off to travel.
take off：起飞；脱下；动身；匆匆离开
造____________________________