松树下的生命轮回
A Time for Memories
Sharon Wright
【名人语库】
The memory of my mother and her teachings were, after all, the only capital I had to start life with, and on that capital I have made my way. ~Andrew Jackson
对母亲的记忆和母亲的教诲是我人生起步的唯一资本，它奠定了我的人生之路。——安德鲁?杰克逊
One balmy① summer afternoon, I sat on an old blanket under a pine tree chatting with my mother. For years, we had been coming to this park for family picnics and gatherings, and my mother and I often sat in this same spot.
In recent years, we usually just talked about life, but sometimes we recalled events from my childhood. Like the time I was thirteen and had my first date, when Mother brought me to this spot under the tree and told me about the facts of life. Or the time a few years later, when my hair turned out pink for my senior prom and she’d held me while I cried. But the most special event that occurred next to this tree was when I told Mother I was getting married. Tears filled her eyes and this time I held her while she cried. She told me she was sad to lose her little girl but happy to see that I had turned into a beautiful young woman.
Over the years, we’d watched the pine trees in this park grow tall and straight until their needles seemed to touch the clouds. Each year of their growth seemed to match our increasingly close relationship and the deepening love we had for each other.
On this particular sunny afternoon, Mother and I sat quietly breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass. She was unusually solemn and took me by surprise when she asked me, “Who will you bring here after I’m gone?”
I gave her one of my arched-eyebrow inquiries, then smiled. After a few moments, when she didn’t return my smile, I began to wonder what made her ask such a disturbing② question. Mother picked up a blade of grass and began to shred it with her fingernail. I’d become well acquainted with my mother’s habits, and this particular one indicated she had something serious on her mind.
For several minutes, we sat in silence gathering our thoughts. A couple of blue jays squawked③ nearby and an airplane flew overhead, but they didn’t ease the awkward moment between us. Finally, I reached over and took my mother’s hand in mine. “There’s nothing you can’t tell me, Mother,” I said. “We will handle this together, like we always have.”
She looked into my face, and her eyes filled with tears that spilt down her cheeks that were alarmingly④ pale. Even before she said it, I knew what was coming. Mother was dying.
I held her tightly while she told me that her heart condition was worsening and couldn’t be repaired. I think I had known for quite a while but had not been willing to admit it to myself. She’d had several heart attacks and, a few years ago, even open-heart surgery. What I didn’t know, and what she had kept from me, was that her condition wasn’t improving. We talked about her options, which were few; we cried, held each other and wished for more time together.
That was many years ago now. Mother died soon after that day, before my sons had a chance to know her. I still come to the park, but now I bring my boys. I still sit under that same sturdy pine tree on an old blanket and talk to my sons of family picnics, gatherings and the grandmother they never knew. Just as my mother did with me, I tell my children about their youthful antics and praise them for their accomplishments as young adults. We come to this special place to create our own memories that I know would make my mother smile with pride.
Not long ago my oldest son wanted to come to the park and talk, so we came and sat under our tree. He hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, then he finally told me he was getting married. I cried tears of joy as my son hugged me—his hug a rare and special treat. I told him how proud I was of the man he had become.
As I sat there that cool April afternoon soaking up the sun and the smell of freshly mown grass, I felt I had come full circle under this giant pine tree. Holding my son in my arms, I was happy for him, just the way I knew my mother had been happy for me all those years ago when I told her I was getting married.
Looking over my son’s shoulder, I saw that several young pine saplings had been planted recently. As these trees grow straight and tall, I thought, will the lives of my family continue to grow with them? I wanted to share this spot with my grandchildren, too.
The branches above were swaying in the breeze and in them I heard a whispering voice: Who will you bring here when I’m gone? It was my mother’s voice, and I tightened my arms around my son.
一个阳光和煦的夏日午后，公园大松树下的地上铺了一层老旧的地毯，我和母亲坐在上面静静地聊天。多年以来，我们一直在这个公园举行家庭聚会、野餐，而我和母亲就时常坐在这棵松树下。
最近这些年，我们大多数只是谈论生活，但有时也会回忆我童年时代的一些往事。比如，13岁那年我第一次约会，母亲就把我带到这里，在松树下告诉了我很多生活的真谛；比如，又过了几年，即将从中学毕业的我，变成一个染着粉红色头发的叛逆少女，而就在这棵松树下，我紧紧地依偎在母亲怀里失声痛哭。但是，最让人难忘的是，在这棵松树下，我告诉母亲我要结婚了。那一刻，喜悦的泪水溢满她的眼眶，我紧紧地搂住母亲。她说，此刻，她既为即将失去她的小女孩而难过，也为她的小女孩终于长成美丽的年轻女子而欣喜不已。
多年来，我们眼看着这棵松树越长越高，越来越直，逐渐长成直逼云霄的参天大树。它的成长恰似我与母亲的关系；随着岁月的流逝，我们越来越亲密，对彼此的爱也越来越深。
在这个阳光灿烂的午后，草坪刚刚修过，我和母亲静静地坐着，呼吸着空气中弥漫的青草芳香。她显得格外沉默而肃穆。出乎意料地，她忽然问我道：“在我走了以后，你会带谁来这里呢？”
我不禁扬起眉毛，惊讶地想要问点什么，却又很快露出了一丝微笑。过了很久，她仍旧对我的微笑没有丝毫回应。我开始疑惑她为什么会问这样一个让人不安的问题。母亲捡起一片青草，用指甲不停地撕扯着。我对母亲的习惯非常熟悉，这个动作意味着她的脑海里正在思考很重要的事情。
有那么一会儿，我们安静地坐着，只是整理着自己的思绪。一对蓝色松鸦在不远处嘎嘎地惊叫着，飞机从我们头顶上一掠而过，但这一切似乎都没能缓和我们之间的尴尬气氛。后来，我伸出双手，紧紧握住母亲的手，说道：“妈妈，这世上没什么事是你不能和我说的。让我们一起面对吧，就像我们一直以来那样。”
她看着我，脸色苍白得惊人。她的眼泪夺眶而出，洒落在她的双颊上。在她开口说话之前，我已然明白：母亲已经老了，来日无多。
我将她紧紧地抱在怀中。她告诉我，她的心脏功能正在不断恶化，很可能无法康复。其实，相当长的一段时间以来，我就知道她的病情不容乐观，只不过心里一直不愿承认这个事实罢了。几年前，她多次突发心脏病，甚至接受了心脏手术。但我不知道的是，她一直对我隐瞒了真实病情，谎称她的情况在不断地好转。我们谈到她面前极其有限的几种选择，忍不住抱头痛哭起来，但愿我们在一起的时间能再多一点，再长一点。
那天之后不久，母亲就去世了，甚至还来不及看一眼她即将出生的外孙们。转眼间，很多年过去了。我依然会时不时地去公园，只不过现在是带着我的儿子们一起。我还会坐在那棵粗壮的大松树下，坐在那老旧的地毯上，向儿子们回忆起在这里办过的家庭聚会和野餐，还有他们未曾谋面的外祖母。我也会像母亲对我一样，对儿子们诉说他们年幼时的种种趣事，赞扬他们成年后取得的种种成绩。我们来到这个拥有特殊意义的地方，创造属于我们自己的回忆，而这些甜蜜的回忆，我相信，一定会让在天有灵的母亲倍感欣慰与骄傲。
不久前，我的大儿子想来公园与我谈谈。于是，我们来到那棵大松树下坐了下来。一开始他支支吾吾，闪烁其词，后来终于鼓起勇气告诉我，他要结婚了。一时之间，我喜极而泣，而他紧紧地拥抱着我。要知道，这对他来说是多么罕见而特殊的举动。我对他说，你终于长大了，成为男子汉了，我为你感到骄傲。
凉爽4月的下午，我坐在那里，沐浴着春日的阳光，嗅着草坪的清香，忽然发觉我的人生在这棵大松树下完成了圆满的轮回。我用双臂拥抱着儿子，为他感到高兴，就如同许多年以前，母亲在听闻我即将嫁为人妇时为我感到高兴一样。
从儿子的肩上望过去，我看到几株新栽的松树苗，心想：当这些树苗长得笔直挺拔、高耸入云时，我的家人也会伴随着它们一起成长吗？我也想和孙子孙女们分享这里的一切。
树枝在微风中婆娑摇曳着，仿佛有阵阵窃窃私语在耳畔浮现：在我走了以后，你会带谁来这里呢？不错，那是我母亲的声音。我不禁将儿子抱得更紧了。
?注释?
①balmy ['bɑ:mi] a. 芳香的，温和的
②disturbing [di'st?:bi?] a. 烦扰的，担心的，令人不安的
③squawk [skw?:k] v. 呱呱地叫鸣，喋喋不休地发牢骚
④alarmingly [?'lɑ:mi?li] ad. 让人担忧地
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