孩子的禮物（雙語(yǔ)）

It was Christmas 1961. I was teaching in a small town in Ohio where my twenty seven third graderseagerly anticipated the great day of gifts giving.

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)孩子都在熱切盼望著這個(gè)互贈(zèng)禮品、激動(dòng)人心的日子到來(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 I wondered what would happen to this quiet child, once so happy, now so suddenly withdrawn.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.

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)安靜的孩子發(fā)生了什么事，原先是那么快樂(lè)，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。

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.

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)程中，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(kāi)包裝，動(dòng)作又慢又小心。我等待著，但是她卻轉(zhuǎn)過(guò)了身。

After school the children left in little groups, but she lingered, watching them go out the door. I sat down 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. "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, lay a golden chain. 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)齼蓛傻仉x開(kāi)了，但她磨磨蹭蹭，看著大家走出門(mén)外。我坐下來(lái)稍稍松了口氣，對(duì)要發(fā)生的事沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)準(zhǔn)備。這時(shí)她向我走來(lái)，雙手拿著一個(gè)白色的盒子向我遞過(guò)來(lái)。盒子沒(méi)有打包裝，稍微有些臟，好像是被孩子未洗過(guò)的小手摸過(guò)了許多遍。“給我的嗎?”我微微一笑。她沒(méi)出聲，只是點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭。我接過(guò)盒子，非常小心地打開(kāi)它。盒子里面有一條金色的鏈子，閃閃發(fā)光。我在一瞬間明白過(guò)來(lái)——這是她為媽媽做的項(xiàng)鏈，她再也見(jiàn)不到的媽媽，再也不能抱她、給她梳頭或一起講故事的媽媽。她的媽媽再也不能分享她童年時(shí)光的快樂(lè)和憂傷。就在三個(gè)星期前她的媽媽離開(kāi)了人世。

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 golden chain, then back at the giver, "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。我低下頭看著金色的鏈子，然后抬起頭望著她，說(shuō)道：“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為她的媽媽，因?yàn)樗岩环葑钫滟F的禮物送給了我：她自己。