I think about my grandma, who lived to ninety-two and still supervised my mom's garden until just few weeks before she died. And then I'm back there in her house in the summer heat of my child hood. I moved my pillow to the foot of grandma's bed and angled my face toward the open window. I flipped the pillow, hunting for the cooller side.
这是我禁不住想起了外婆,她活到了92岁,直到去世前的几个礼拜,她一直都帮助妈妈照料着花园。回到童年炎热的夏天,回到了外婆的小屋,我把枕头移到外婆的床位,脸朝着窗。之后我又把枕头翻了过来,让比较凉爽的一头朝上。
Grandma sees me thrashing, "if you just watch for the breeze," she says, "you'll cool off and fall asleep." She cranks up the Vanetian Blinds. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter. Lying still and waiting, I suddenly notice that life outside the window, the bug chorus. Neighbours, porch-sitting late, speaking in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
看到我翻来翻去地睡不着,外婆说:“只要用心去感受和祈盼,风会来的,这样你就可以一身清凉地入梦乡了。她把百叶窗拉了起来,于是我就一直注视着朦胧的白窗帘,等待它的飘动。静静地躺着,祈盼着,这是我忽然找到,窗外世界的生命。小虫的清唱;门廊外闲聊着的邻居,他们模糊不清的喋喋细语开始催我入眠······
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