美丽英文：致十年后的自己(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：何之遥

出版社：新世界出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

美丽英文：致十年后的自己试读：

我们的生活在于行动，而不是时间；在于思想，而不是呼吸；在于感觉，而不是表盘上的数字。我们应该按心灵的悸动来计算时间。谁思考最多，情操最高尚，做得最好，谁的生活就最有意义。

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; in feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Chapter1在追忆中成长

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen nor even touched, but just felt in the heart.—Helen Keller

世界上最好和最美丽的事物，用眼睛看不见，用手摸不到，只能用心去体会。——海伦·凯勒A Time for Memories松树下的生命轮回Sharon Wright

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，变成了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，喜悦的泪水溢满了她的眼眶，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。它的成长恰似母亲与我的关系；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，呼吸着空气中弥漫着的青草芳香。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？”

我不禁扬起了眉毛，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，这世上没有什么事是你不能和我说的。让我们一起来面对吧，就像我们一直以来的那样。”

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，来日无多了。

我将她紧紧地抱在怀中。她告诉我说，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意承认这个事实罢了。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。我们谈到了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。我依然时不时地会去公园，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，我们来到了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说，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。

凉爽四月的下午，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。【美丽语录】

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·杰克逊注释

①balmy ['bɑ:mi] a. 芳香的，温和的

②disturbing [di'stə:biŋ] a. 烦扰的，担心的，令人不安的

③squawk [skwɔ:k] v. 呱呱地叫鸣，喋喋不休地发牢骚

④alarmingly [ə'lɑ:miŋli] ad. 让人担忧地The Mother Box母亲之盒Linda Webb Gustafson

Late one December evening, bathed in the soft light of the Christmas tree, I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, letting my memories swirl① around in pools of thought. Returning to the present, I opened my eyes and immediately my gaze fell upon a beautiful miniature Christmas city that lined my fireplace mantel. Well, it was really only half a city, as my dad had divided it between my sister and me twenty-five years earlier after our mother had passed away.

Little twinkle lights glowed from behind red cellophane windows in the tiny cardboard houses that had lined the living-room bookshelves of my childhood.

With no warning, the words tumbled out like a spilled glass of aged wine words that had been hidden in my heart a long time, waiting to surface, “Mom, I miss you so much.”

An ocean of tears ebbed② and flowed for nearly an hour, and then the idea emerged. If I felt this way then surely my brother and sister did, too. Twenty-five years, five senses, one box that’s what I would do I would capture the essence of my mother and place her in a box a Mother Box one for each of her children.

I began to think of our mother in terms of what scent encompassed her, what look best described her, what sound echoed “Mother”, and so on.

Including my ten-year-old daughter, Shiloah, in my quest, we searched to put together pieces of a grandmother she’d never met.

First came the box all the memories would be housed in. Such a vast display we found. Flowered ones of every type ever found in a garden, ones with stars on them, moons, old-fashioned Victorian images, hearts and ones with Christmas themes, and then we saw them angels! Yes, for a mother no longer of this Earth, it was perfect. But, there were only two. One sister, one brother I’d make one for myself another time.

Oddly enough, the entire day was like that. We’d find two of just what we needed, no more, no less. With mounting excitement we took our treasures home and wrapped them with great love.

A river of memories wound its way through a thickly wooded forest of words, painting a picture of a thousand yesterdays, growing straight and tall like new seedlings among the old growth. Sealed with a simple envelope, they awaited their intended.

Just the right time presented itself to give my brother his box. As his eyes fell upon its contents, this man of thirty-seven was reduced to tears. My father was standing there, and I’ll never forget the faraway look on his face. The years were melting away with each item my brother lifted from the Mother Box.

A package of grits representing a woman who grew up in the South and served it to her children for breakfast in Oregon, her favorite Johnny Mathis music, a shiny silver Christmas bow that felt like the party dresses she wore, a single silk red rose representing dozens my father had given her. I included the famous story of how once when they were courting, he brought long-stemmed roses that were as long as he was tall! She adored red roses. Finally, a bottle of her favorite perfume, Emeraude. I could hardly believe they still made it, but there it was, that familiar green. The shape of the bottle had changed over the years, but when I sprayed the misty fragrance into the air, it was unmistakably the scent of our mother.

This journey of the heart, traveled with my daughter, brought us together in spirit. We were both bound with the cords of love from the life of a woman long gone, yet still sewn tightly in the memory quilt③ of our minds. We saw the continuing thread of life reflected in each other’s eyes.

Then my daughter handed me a box. Inside was the essence of my mother the fragrance of another generation. I reached out to touch her legacy, opened the perfume bottle and sprayed④, and she surrounded us.

12月的一个深夜，屋内圣诞树的灯光柔和而又温馨，我闭着眼睛躺在沙发上，思绪游荡开去，回忆起种种往事来。当我张开双眼回到现实中时，我的目光忽然落在壁炉架上陈列着的精美的圣诞之城微缩模型上。事实上，那只不过是半个模型罢了。25年前母亲去世时，父亲把这个微缩模型的一半分给了姐姐，另一半分给了我。

在我小的时候，这座小小的纸板房总是放在客厅的书架上。红色玻璃纸做的窗户，后面装着一闪一闪的小灯，宛如星星在眨着眼睛。

没有任何征兆地，长久以来深藏在我心底的一句话，突然就像一杯打翻的陈年红酒一般倾泄而出：“妈妈，我是如此地想念你。”

在接下来的一小时里，我哭哭停停，不知流了多少眼泪，直到心里忽然间冒出一个主意来。我想，如果我对母亲的感觉如此强烈，那么我的兄弟姐妹们也一定感同身受。我要把这25年的时间通过五种感官做成一只盒子——一只“母亲之盒”，每只盒子里放入代表母亲特质的东西，分别送给兄弟姐妹们。

我开始回想，什么香味是母亲身上特有的，什么样子最能代表母亲，什么声音最能唤起对母亲的回忆，如此种种。

我们开始努力拼凑关于母亲的记忆碎片，就连我那10岁的女儿夏洛伊，也在我的要求下帮忙搜寻从未见过的外祖母的点点滴滴。

最重要的是，这个盒子必须包含我们对母亲的所有回忆。我们找到了很多很多，比如，花园里能找到的各种花朵，带有星星或月亮的各种物品，老式的维多利亚女王头像，心型纪念品以及各种圣诞饰物。我们还找到了天使图案的纪念品。的确，对于已然去世的母亲来说，天使是最完美的纪念物。但是，我们只找到了两个，一个给我姐姐，一个给我哥哥。我只能下次再给自己重新做一个了。

非常奇怪的是，一天下来，我们找到的每种纪念物都只有两个，不多不少。每当找到什么东西时，我们总是异常兴奋，满怀爱意，然后小心翼翼地将其包好，把我们的宝贝带回家去。

回忆就像一条蜿蜒曲折的河流，穿过茂密的丛林，绘出一幅由成千上万个昨日组成的美丽画卷。新的回忆，如同新长成的幼苗，在老树旁越长越高，越长越挺拔。回忆也像一封往日的信札，用朴素的信封简单封缄，在预定的时间被送至收信人手中，不早不晚，恰到好处。

我在适当的时候把盒子送给了我的哥哥。当他看见盒子里的物品时，这个37岁的男人忍不住潸然泪下。那时，我父亲也站在旁边，他脸上若有所思的表情让我永生难忘。看着我哥哥将盒中之物一件一件地取出，这么多年的岁月顷刻间都融化成浓浓的回忆。

一包粗燕麦粉，尽管我们住在俄勒冈州，但在南方长大的母亲经常喂孩子们吃这种食物；她最喜爱的约翰·马西斯的音乐唱片；一枚闪亮的银质蝴蝶结，看上去非常像她穿过的晚礼服的风格；一朵真丝红玫瑰，代表父亲曾经送给她的很多玫瑰花。母亲非常钟爱红玫瑰，并且，玫瑰花也隐喻着发生在他们之间的一个故事：当初恋爱时，父亲曾经送给母亲一支玫瑰花，花茎很长，据说和父亲的身高一样长！最后，盒子里还有一瓶她最喜爱的埃莫罗德香水。令我难以置信的是，现在他们居然还在生产这种香水。尽管瓶身的形状变了，但那绿莹莹的颜色却是再也熟悉不过了。我朝着空气喷洒香水，飘渺的香气四溢，那一刻，我确信不疑，那就是母亲身上的气味。

我和女儿共同完成了这段心灵之旅，我们彼此在精神上也更加亲近了。通过爱的纽带，我们与一个逝去已久的生命——母亲，连结在一起；然而，我们也在内心深处细密地编织着属于自己的厚重记忆。在彼此眼中，我们看到了丝丝缕缕生命延续的光芒。

女儿随后将一只盒子交给我，里面保存着我母亲的特别气味，那是一种属于上一代人的香气。我伸手取出香水瓶，向四周喷洒。香气弥漫开来，恍惚之间，仿佛母亲一直就在我们身边，从未离去。【美丽语录】

Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall. A mother’s secret hope outlives them all.—Oliver Wendell Holmes

青春会逝去；爱情会枯萎；友谊的绿叶也会凋零。而一个母亲内心的希望比它们都要长久。——奥利弗·温戴尔·荷马注释

①swirl [swə:l] v.（使）成漩涡，盘旋，眩晕

②ebb [eb] v. 落潮，衰退

③quilt [kwilt] n. 被状物，被子

④spray [sprei] v. 喷雾，喷射，扫射Dads Will Be Dads父亲不可替代Susan M. Lang

While I was pregnant with my first child, sweltering① through the endless, fiery summer months in which ankles swelled and sweat poured forth profusely, I wanted only one thing: to give birth.

“I can’t wait until this child is out,” I would huff and puff in frustration.

My husband lovingly reassured me that the baby would spring forth at the appointed time. That some day I would be free from the burden of the added weight and the painful swollen ankles. I, however, felt as if the child had taken up permanent residence.

“Suppose the kid likes it in here and doesn’t want to leave,” I would say.

“Highly unlikely, dear. The baby will be here before you know it,” he insisted, his feet still grounded firmly in reality, while mine were constantly elevated.

As it turned out, when my water broke that fateful② evening, I was shocked into reality. Our first daughter did leave the womb and enter the atmosphere. She even arrived three weeks early.

When Mary was born, I was overjoyed. Not only was it a relief to hold her tiny body in my arms, but she was a red-headed beauty. Even when she was minutes old, I felt that we had a unique attachment. And we did, for she had been a part of me. However, what I didn’t anticipate was how difficult it would be to let her go.

For those nine months that seemed like an eternity, the baby had been mine…all mine. She was joined with me and depended on only me for survival. Even though Tom could feel her kick through the womb③ as she grew bigger, I usually had to notify him that she was moving. He depended on me to tell him what the baby was doing. The communication that Mary and I had was ours alone. Now, she was in the world and I had to share her with others. Including her dad.

Now, it’s not that I didn’t trust him. My husband is a compassionate husband and father. It’s just that he doesn’t do things the way that I do them.

He held the baby differently. I cradled her close, showing her my maternal love. He held her facing outward so she would have a world view. He transported her differently. I carried her in my arms from room to room as I tidied up. He placed her in the stroller and rolled her around so that he could put things away and still keep an eye on her. He comforted her differently. I rocked her quietly to calm her; he bounced her. He even fed her differently. I breast-fed her at 2:00 a.m. He bottle-fed her at 2:00 p.m. (Okay, so I can’t hold biology against the poor guy.) It’s just that it was difficult to accept that someone could relate to Mary in another way. Undoubtedly, I was very insecure, and sharing her was hard. Even with her dad.

Of course, there was the time that I was downstairs in the basement office for a while working on a project. It was Dad’s time to watch his little girl. As I reached the top of the steps after finishing my work, he asked, “Where’s Mary?”

“What do you mean, where is Mary?” I screamed.

“I thought you had her,” he said nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her.” He had placed her on the living-room floor for a moment and then inadvertently④ turned his back. We began our search there. As it turned out, she had crawled over to the floor-length picture window and was hiding behind the drapes. We found her giggling in delight at the birds on the front lawn and at the cars passing by. It was the first time that she had crawled. I seldom placed her on the floor, but Tom liked to give her room to stretch and play. No harm was done, in fact just the opposite. Our baby had reached a new point in her life because my husband, her dad, had let her expand her horizons.

During all those months of pregnancy while I complained, I never imagined how difficult it would be to let her go once she was born. For me, it was the first test of motherhood to let Dad be Dad. To realize that someone else could nurture my child in his own way. And to realize that what he had to give her, I couldn’t give.

That is the beauty of parenting. That each mother and each father has a unique contribution. That our babies need the distinctive love and nurture that each one of us has to offer. And it pays off, too. By the time our second child was on the way, Mary was two years old. She and her dad had a wonderful relationship forged by the variety of experiences which they alone had shared.

After our youngest child, Kristi, arrived, I was able to give my husband more freedom and space in his distinctive parenting techniques. I, too, had grown. And, I had learned from his parenting style, even as he had learned from mine. After all, we were a team.

“Well, they’re all yours,” I declared one day as I headed for the office.

“Aren’t you just a little worried?” he teased.

“No, just remember to check behind the drapes if the baby disappears,” I laughed. “Besides,” I added, “you’ve got everything under control.”

在我怀第一个孩子的时候，那是一个闷热而冗长的夏季，火热的天气似乎没有丝毫收敛的迹象。我的脚踝肿得高高的，身上总是大汗淋漓。我唯一想做的事情就是赶快把孩子生下来。“我没法挨到孩子出生的时候了。”我满脸沮丧，愤怒地咆哮着。

我的丈夫深情地安慰我，说宝宝会顺利在预产期出生，到那时，脚踝的肿胀和疼痛自然就会消失，身体也不再那么臃肿沉重，我就可以摆脱负担获得解放了。而我却似乎觉得，孩子仿佛要在我的肚子里永久地待下去。“那如果孩子喜欢待在肚子里，不打算出来呢？”我说。“亲爱的，那是不可能的。孩子说不准在你没发觉的时候就出生了呢。”他语气坚定地说道，客观而理性，而我则明显有些失去理智。

后来，直到羊水破裂的那天晚上，我才从震惊中恢复理智，回到现实中来。我们的第一个女儿降生了，足足提前了三个星期。

女儿出生时，我高兴极了。不仅是因为我终于解脱了，可以用双臂把她小小的身体抱在怀里，而且她还是个有一头红发的小美女。尽管那时她才出生几分钟而已，但我就感觉到我和她之间有一种独特的情感，因为她曾经是我身体的一部分。但我当时并没有预料到，要我对她放手，这对我来说有多么艰难。

在看似无限漫长的怀孕的九个月里，宝宝是属于我的，完完全全只属于我自己。她来到我身体里，并依赖我生存下来。随着她在我的肚子里慢慢长大，我的丈夫隔着肚皮能感觉到她在里面踢来踢去，但是更多时候，他只能通过我知晓宝宝在肚子里的一举一动。女儿和我的交流只限于我们两人之间。但是，现在，她已经来到人世，我不得不与其他人，包括她爸爸，一起分享我们的女儿。

当然，这并不是我不信任他。他是一个极富爱心的丈夫和父亲。只是因为他做事情的方式与我不同而已。

他抱孩子的方法与我不同：我紧紧地怀抱着她，让她感受到我满腔的母爱；他总是把她脸朝外地抱着，让她看着这个新奇的世界。他带孩子走动的方式也不同：我会一边收拾屋子，一边把她抱在怀里，在不同的房间里走来走去；而他总是把她放在婴儿车里，推着她四处走，这样他可以空出双手而眼睛仍然盯牢孩子。他抚慰孩子的方式也很特别：我轻轻地摇着她让她安静下来，而他总是让她在他腿上不停地弹跳。甚至连他的喂养方法也不同：我在早上两点喂孩子吃母乳，他在下午两点喂孩子吃奶粉（好吧，也许我不该用男女不同的生理构造来反对这个可怜的家伙）。实际上，我只是很难接受有人能以某种方式与女儿联系在一起，毫无疑问，那是因为我很没有安全感。即使是与她的爸爸分享女儿，我也感到很难。

有一次，我待在地下室的工作间里做点事情，让她爸爸看着孩子。当我做完事情走上楼梯口时，他问我：“女儿在哪里？”“你什么意思？女儿不是应该和你在一起吗？”我尖叫起来。“我以为她和你在一起，”他满不在乎地说，“别紧张，我会找到她的。”刚开始的时候，他把女儿放在客厅的地板上玩了一会儿，后来一不注意转过身去时，女儿就不见了。我们从客厅开始找起。原来，是她自己爬向落地窗边，躲到窗帘后面去了。我们找到她时，她正高兴地看着门前草坪上的小鸟，还有马路上驶过的汽车，不停地咯咯笑着。这是她第一次爬动。我很少把她放在地板上，但丈夫却总是喜欢给她更多的空间，让她自己去伸展手脚，尽情玩耍。他的做法并没有害处，相反，还大有好处。正因为我的丈夫，她的爸爸，让她自由地去扩展自己的视野，我们的女儿在她的生活道路上抵达了新的起点。

怀孕的那几个月里，我满腹抱怨，我很难想象，一旦她出生后，让我放手有多么困难。但是，这一次让爸爸照顾女儿的经历，正初次考验了我的母性。我逐渐意识到，别人也可以以他自己的方式来抚养孩子，而且她爸爸能给她的东西恰恰是我所无法给予的。

这就是为人父母的魅力所在。每个母亲和父亲对孩子都有自己独特的贡献，而孩子也需要父母双方各自提供不同的爱和培育。终于，功夫不负有心人，在我怀第二个孩子的时候，我们的女儿已经两岁了，她和爸爸相处得十分愉快。整个家庭其乐融融，因为他们俩分享了很多只属于他们自己的美好经历。

在我们最小的孩子克里斯蒂出生后，我渐渐能给我丈夫更多的自由空间，让他施展他独特的育儿方法。而且，我也变得成熟了，从他身上学到了很多；当然，他也从我这里学到很多。毕竟，我们同属一个“团队”。“好吧，现在他们都归你了。”有一天，我走向工作室的时候说道。“你不会有那么一点点担心吗？”他开玩笑地说。“不会，不过如果孩子不见了，记得去窗帘后面找找。”我大笑起来，又说道，“还有，你已经可以独当一面了，不是吗？”【美丽语录】

I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection.—Sigmund Freud

我认为，一个孩子对父亲庇护的渴望比任何其他需求都要更强烈。——西格蒙特·弗洛伊德注释

①sweltering ['sweltəriŋ] a. 酷热的

②fateful ['feitfəl] a. 宿命的；重大的，决定性的

③womb [wu:m] n. 子宫；孕育处

④inadvertently ['inəd'və:təntli] ad. 不注意；疏忽地；非故意地Romance Is in the Eyes of the Beholder心中有爱，眼里才有爱Tina Runge

Life is so very busy. I think at times, we all get lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life that we forget what it was that made us fall in love with our spouse or our significant other. Thankfully, I remembered.

My husband works hard. Many times his hours are long and his employment usually takes him away from the home front about one quarter of the year. I’m not complaining, mind you, because that was the same job that enabled me to be a stay-at-home mom and pursue my dream of writing. Yes, I’m a mother of three active boys and a published romance author. Naturally you’d think my life is full of romance. It is. My days consist of plotting and arranging the romantic lives of my characters so that the outcome is the proverbial “happily ever after”. I love happily ever afters. This story is one of those.

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