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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.
"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand.
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?"
"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy." The bird went glissading down the beach. "Good-bye joy," I muttered to myself, "hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed2; my life seemed completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Ruth," I answered. "I'm Ruth Peterson."
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
"Hi, Wendy."
She giggled4. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle3 followed me.
"Come again, Mrs. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."
The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts5, PTA meetings, and ailing6 mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. "I need a sandpiper," I said to myself, gathering7 up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me.
The breeze was chilly8, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity9 I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
"Hello, Mrs. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"
"I don't know, you say."
"Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness
of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered16 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.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."
She seems unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, my God, why was I saying this to a little child?
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."
"Yes, and yesterday and the day before and-oh, go away!"
"Did it hurt? "
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated17 with her, with myself.
"When she died?" "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'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 drawn18 looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said. "I'm Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mrs. Peterson, please come in" "Wendy talked of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all-she's a delightful19 child," I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. "Where is she?"
"Wendy died last week, Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught.
"She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn'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 faltered20.
"She left something for you...if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing21 for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared22 envelope, with MRS. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath23 was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'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- one for each year of her life- that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color sand--- who taught me the gift of love.
点击收听单词发音
1 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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2 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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3 giggle | |
n.痴笑,咯咯地笑;v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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4 giggled | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 scouts | |
侦察员[机,舰]( scout的名词复数 ); 童子军; 搜索; 童子军成员 | |
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6 ailing | |
v.生病 | |
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7 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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8 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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9 serenity | |
n.宁静,沉着,晴朗 | |
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10 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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11 charades | |
n.伪装( charade的名词复数 );猜字游戏 | |
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12 sarcastically | |
adv.挖苦地,讽刺地 | |
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13 tinkling | |
n.丁当作响声 | |
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14 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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15 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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16 chattered | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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17 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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18 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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19 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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20 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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21 racing | |
n.竞赛,赛马;adj.竞赛用的,赛马用的 | |
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22 smeared | |
弄脏; 玷污; 涂抹; 擦上 | |
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23 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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