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第7章 爱心永远不会老(2)

“I hardly had to turn round -- I knew it was my precious doll. I just knew it. And it was. Her lace petticoat had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in from the dining room, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. I can still see my mother trying to put my poor dolly together again. But it couldn’t be done. She was gone forever.”

A few years later GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia8. Now the tears in her eyes spilled over -- tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.

Subdued9 for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas, one exactly like the doll that got broken. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”

My heart filled with pride as I listened to my compassionate little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories﹖

Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local dollmaker who made doll heads, hands and feet of a ceramic10 that closely resembled the old porcelain ones. From her I commissioned11 a doll head in the style of three-quarters of a century ago -- making sure to specify .“big blue eyes that opened and closed,” and hands and feet. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown wig12 and a kidskin body, and Meagan and I shopped for fabric, lace and ribbon to duplicate13 the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz, who had some experience with a hot-glue gun, volunteered to put the doll together, and as the last days before Christmas raced by, Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit, complete with lacy petticoat. And while Liz, Chris and I searched for doll “boots with real buttons,” Meagan wrote and illustrated the story of the lost doll.

Finally, our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But, of course, there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it﹖

On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our gaily wrapped gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”

“Read it out loud,” one of the other children demanded. GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.

I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Cradling the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.”

And perhaps she wasn’t just saying that to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close facsimile14 of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.

我祖父去世后,我那曾经一度充满活力的83岁高龄的祖母开始逐渐衰老。她已无法料理自己的家务,就搬到我母亲家,她那充满深情爱意的大家庭的其他成员(2个儿女、8个孙儿女、22个曾孙儿女和2个玄孙儿女)时常来看望她。虽然她依然健在,但很难引起她老人家对任何事的兴趣。

3年前,在12月一个寒冷的下午,我和我当时8岁的女儿米甘前去探望“GG” (家人这么称呼她),准备陪她待一段时间。她注意到米甘抱着心爱的玩具娃娃。

“我小的时候也有一个特别的玩具娃娃,”她对睁着两只大眼睛的米甘说。“在我大约你这个年纪的时候,有一年圣诞节我得到了它。我和我妈妈、爸爸,还有4个姐妹,住在缅因州的一幢老式农舍里。那年圣诞节我打开的第一份礼物就是一个你想看到的最漂亮的玩具娃娃。

“她有一张精美的手绘细瓷脸,她的棕色长发用一个大大的粉红蝴蝶结扎在头后。她的眼睛蓝得不能再蓝了,而且还会睁开和闭上。我记得她的身子是用小山羊革制作的,她的胳膊和腿的关节都能弯曲。”

GG说话的声音变低了,成了一种近乎虔敬的声调。“我的娃娃穿的是一件精致的、镶着细花边的粉红色长袍。但我特别记得她的衬裙。那是用上等细亚麻布做的,镶着一排排细花边。靴子上的小纽扣是真的。对我这样一个农家小女孩来说,得到这么一个精工细作的娃娃就像是奇迹——我父母亲为了买它,一定做出了很大的牺牲。那天早上我是多么高兴啊!”

GG回想着那个很久以前的圣诞节,眼睛里充满了深情,声音激动得颤抖。“我整个上午都在玩我的娃娃。她是这么漂亮的一个娃娃……后来意外发生了。我母亲叫我们去饭厅吃圣诞节晚餐,我轻手轻脚地把我的新玩具娃娃放在大厅的桌子上。但在我和家人一起上桌时,我听到很响的哗啦一声。

“不用我转身,我就知道是我那宝贵的娃娃。我就知道是她,而且果真是她。她的衬裙从桌上搭拉下来,我的小妹妹伸手正好够着它,就把它拉了下来。我从饭厅跑过去,我那漂亮的娃娃躺在地上,她的脸已经摔成十几块碎片。我母亲试图把我那可怜的娃娃拼在一起,那情景时至今日仍然历历在目。可是已经无能为力了。我永远失去了她。”

GG告诉米甘,几年后GG的小妹妹也因肺炎离开了人世。此时,她眼中的泪水夺眶而出——我知道,那不仅是为了失去的玩具娃娃和小妹妹,而且也是为了失去的时光而流的眼泪。

在剩下的时间里,米甘一直闷闷不乐。回家时,米甘一进车就大声说道:“妈,我有个绝妙的主意!圣诞节我们送GG听着我富有同情心的小女儿这样讲,我心中充满了骄傲。可是我们从哪儿能找到一个比得上GG深情回忆中的那个娃娃呢?

正如人们所说的,有志者事竟成。当我把我的难题告诉我最好的朋友利兹和克里斯后,利兹帮我联系上了当地一个玩具娃娃制造商。她用陶土制作的娃娃头和手脚非常像过去的瓷娃娃。我委托她做一个75年前那种风格的娃娃头——一定要有“能睁闭的蓝色大眼睛”——以及手和脚。我在一家玩具娃娃供应店定做了一头棕色长发和一个小山羊革的躯干。为了复制GG那么充满爱意地描绘的装束,我和米甘上街买布、花边和缎带。有使用热塑胶枪经验的利兹主动把娃娃各个部分粘合在一起。当圣诞节前的最后几天匆匆来临时,克里斯帮我做带花边衬裙的衣服。在利兹、克里斯和我忙着寻找娃娃的“有真纽扣的靴子”时,米甘则写下失去的娃娃的故事,并为故事配了插图。

我们的作品终于完成了。在我们眼里,它是完美无缺的,不过当然不可能完全跟GG失去的那个她那么喜爱的娃娃一模一样。她会认为它和她的那个有相似之处吗?

圣诞节前夜,我和米甘拿着包装艳丽的礼物去了GG处。她坐在孩子们、父母们、姨母姑母们、伯父叔父们和表兄弟姐妹们的中间。“这是给你的,”米甘说道,“不过你得先念念和礼物附在一起的故事。”

有个孩子要求说:“大声念吧。”GG刚念完一页纸,就泣不成声无法继续念下去了。米甘接着往下念完。随后是打开她礼物的时刻了。

我将永远不会忘记GG拿起娃娃抱在胸前时脸上的表情。泪珠再次滑落,但这回是喜悦的眼泪。她把娃娃抱在虚弱的手臂中,一遍遍地说道:“她完全像我原来的那个娃娃,完全像她。”

或许她这么说不光是出于感激,或许不管看起来多么不可能,我们还是成功地制作了一个和她记忆中的娃娃非常像的复制品。但是,当我注视着我8岁的女儿和她的曾祖母一起细看娃娃时,我想到了一个更可能的解释。GG肯定的或许是激励我们制作这份礼物的爱心。爱心无论来自哪里,它永远是一样的。

Grandpa"s Table

爷爷的饭桌

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man"s hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered.

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather"s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped, the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

"We must do something about Grandfather," said the son. "I"ve had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor."

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.

Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. When the family glanced in Grandfather"s direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

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