Sandpipers to Bring Us Joy矶鹞带来欢乐She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
&
ldquo;
Hello,
she said.
I answered with a nod,
not really in the mood to bother with a small child. &
ldquo;
I&
rsquo;
m building,
she said.
&
ldquo;
I see that.
What is it?
I asked,
not really caring.
&
ldquo;
Oh,
I don&
rsquo;
t know,
I just like the feel of sand.
That sounds good,
I thought,
and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by. &
ldquo;
That&
rsquo;
s a joy,
the child said.
&
ldquo;
It&
rsquo;
s a what?
I asked.
&
ldquo;
It&
rsquo;
s a joy.
My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.
The bird went gliding down the beach.
&
ldquo;
Good-
bye joy,
I muttered to myself, &
ldquo;
hello pain,
and turned to walk on.
I was depressed;
my life seemed completely out of balance.
&
ldquo;
What&
rsquo;
s your name?
She wouldn&
rsquo;
t give up.
&
ldquo;
Robert,
I answered. &
ldquo;
I&
rsquo;
m Robert Peterson.
&
ldquo;
Mine&
rsquo;
s Wendy...
I&
rsquo;
m six.
&
ldquo;
Hi,
Windy.
She giggled. &
ldquo;
You&
rsquo;
re funny,
she said.
In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
&
ldquo;
Come again,
Mr.
P,
she called. &
ldquo;
We&
rsquo;
ll have another happy day.
The days and weeks that followed belonged to others:
a group of unruly Boy Scouts,
PTA meetings,
and an ailing mother.
The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. &
ldquo;
I need a sandpiper,
I said to myself,
gathering up my coat.
The ever-
changing balm of the seashore awaited me.
The breeze was chilly,
but I strode along,
trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
&
ldquo;
Hello,
Mr.
P,
she said. &
ldquo;
Do you want to play?
&
ldquo;
What did you have in mind?
I asked,
with a twinge of annoyance.
&
ldquo;
I don&
rsquo;
t know,
you say.
&
ldquo;
How about charades?
I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. &
ldquo;
I don&
rsquo;
t know what that is.
&
ldquo;
Then let&
rsquo;
s just walk.
Looking at her,
I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. &
ldquo;
Where do you live?
I asked.
&
ldquo;
Over there.
She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange,
I thought,
in winter.
&
ldquo;
Where do you go to school?
&
ldquo;
I don&
rsquo;
t go to school.
Mommy says we&
rsquo;
re on vacation.
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach,
but my mind was on other things.
When I left for home,
Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better,
I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later,
I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic.
I was in no mood to even greet Wendy.
I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
&
ldquo;
Look,
if you don&
rsquo;
t mind,
I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, &
ldquo;
I&
rsquo;
d rather be alone today.
She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
&
ldquo;
Why?
she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, &
ldquo;
Because my mother died!
and thought, &
ldquo;
My God,
why was I saying this to a little child?
&
ldquo;
Oh,
she said quietly, &
ldquo;
then this is a bad day.
&
ldquo;
Yes,
I said, &
ldquo;
and yesterday and the day before and &
mdash;
oh,
go away!
&
ldquo;
Did it hurt? &
ldquo;
she inquired.
&
ldquo;
Did what hurt?
I was exasperated with her,
with myself.
&
ldquo;
When she died?
&
ldquo;
Of course it hurt!
I snapped,
misunderstanding,
wrapped up in myself.
I strode off.
A month or so after that,
when I next went to the beach,
she wasn&
rsquo;
t there.
Feeling guilty,
ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her,
I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door.
A drawn looking young woman with honey-
colored hair opened the door.
&
ldquo;
Hello,
I said. &
ldquo;
I&
rsquo;
m Robert Peterson.
I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.
&
ldquo;
Oh yes,
Mr.
Peterson,
please come in.
Wendy spoke of you so much.
I&
rsquo;
m afraid I allowed her to bother you.
If she was a nuisance,
please,
accept my apologies.
&
ldquo;
Not at all &
mdash;
she&
rsquo;
s a delightful child,
I said,
suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. &
ldquo;
Where is she?
&
ldquo;
Wendy died last week,
Mr.
Peterson.
She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn&
rsquo;
t tell you.
Struck dumb,
I groped for a chair.
I had to catch my breath.
&
ldquo;
She loved this beach;
so when she asked to come,
we couldn&
rsquo;
t say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks,
she declined rapidly...
Her voice faltered.
&
ldquo;
She left something for you ...
if only I could find it.
Could you wait a moment while I look?
I nodded stupidly,
my mind racing for something,
to say to this lovely young woman.
She handed me a smeared envelope,
with &
ldquo;
MR.
P printed in bold childish letters.
Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues &
mdash;
a yellow beach,
a blue sea,
and a brown bird.
Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOYTears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide.
I took Wendy&
rsquo;
s mother in my arms. &
ldquo;
I&
rsquo;
m so sorry,
I&
rsquo;
m so sorry,
I&
rsquo;
m so sorry,
I muttered over and over,
and we wept together.
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study.
Six words &
mdash;
one for each year of her life &
mdash;
that speak to me of harmony,
courage,
and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea-
blue eyes and hair the color of sand &
mdash;
who taught me the gift of love.
我第一次和她在那个海滩上相遇时,她整六岁。这个海滩离我的住处约有三、四英里。每当我心情压抑,感到烦恼时,就驱车上那儿去。当时她正在用沙子堆积一个城堡似的东西。看到我来,她抬起头来望着我,那双眼睛像大海般深邃、湛蓝。
&
ldquo;您好!她说。我点了点头作为回答,说实在的,我没有心思跟一个小女孩费神。&
ldquo;我在盖房子呢!她又说。
&
ldquo;我看见了。这盖的是什么房子呢?我心不在焉地问道。
&
ldquo;噢,我不知道,我就是喜欢摸沙子的感觉。
这倒有意思,我边想边脱掉鞋子。蓦地,一只矶鹞从一旁滑翔而过。孩子见了说:&
ldquo;那是欢乐。
&
ldquo;是什么?
&
ldquo;是欢乐,矶鹞能给人们带来欢乐,妈妈说的。 那只矶鹞顺着海滨飞走了。
&
ldquo;再见了,快乐,我自言自语道,&
ldquo;痛苦来临了。并转身走开。我很沮丧,因为我现在的生活一团糟。
&
ldquo;您叫什么名字啊?她还不罢休。
&
ldquo;罗伯特,我回答,&
ldquo;我叫罗伯特&
middot;彼得森。
&
ldquo;我叫温迪,──听上去却像
Windy(风的意思)。&
ldquo;我六岁了。
&
ldquo;你好,大风,我叫道。&
ldquo;您真逗!她咯咯地笑了。尽管心绪不佳,我也不由得笑了起来,一边往前走着。她那清脆悦耳的笑声依然追随着我。
&
ldquo;您下次再来,彼先生。咱们再快乐地玩一天!她喊着。
那以后的好几个星期,我忙得不可开交,没有一点闲暇:负责一群调皮捣蛋的童子军,参加家长教师联谊会;还要照顾生病的母亲。
一个阳光明媚的上午,我洗完碗碟,心想:&
ldquo;我需要一只矶鹞。于是穿上外套向海滩走去。
海岸不断变化的芳香依然在等着我。微风有点刺骨,但是我依然大步走着,我多么渴望能重新处于安静宁谧之中啊!我早已忘掉了那个孩子,所以当她出现在我面前时,不免吃了一惊。
&
ldquo;您好,彼先生!她说。&
ldquo;你想玩吗?
&
ldquo;你想玩什么?带着一丝厌烦,我反问她。
&
ldquo;我不知道,您说吧。
&
ldquo;猜字谜怎么样?我挖苦地问。
&
ldquo;我不知道那是什么,她说着,又发出一阵银铃般的笑声。
&
ldquo;那么,咱们一块儿走走吧。我望着她,看到了娇嫩而皙白的脸色。&
ldquo;你住在哪儿?我问她。
&
ldquo;那边!她用小手指着远处一排夏季避暑的小别墅。我感到纳闷。现在是冬天啊。
&
ldquo;你在哪儿上学呢?
&
ldquo;我不上学,妈妈说我们在度假。我们漫步走上海滩,她一路上叽叽喳喳地说着小姑娘们的话。 可是,我却心事重重。当我要回家时,温迪说这是快乐的一天。奇怪的是,我的心情也感到舒坦多了。于是,我同意的报以一笑。
三星期后的一天,我神思恍惚,几乎是疯狂似地冲向我的海滩。我根本不想理睬温迪。
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