沒有孩子在身邊的日子。太清靜。雖然總是有許多事情要忙碌，但是。屋子裡空落落的。還好，這個週末我們去城裡看女兒，過幾天兒子也回家來休幾天假。我們得好好計劃一下，做些什麼。
翻閱一些舊文章，看見了兒子八、九歲時寫的文字。貼一篇在這裡吧。記得他那時小小年紀，就寫二戰、寫納粹集中營裡的故事，寫古代印第安人部落裡的事，寫另外星球上的故事。寫得栩栩如生，如在眼前。他的文字雅緻簡潔、很有節奏和韻律感。他從不用生僻字。但就是這些簡單樸素的文字，組合起來就給了文章一種內在的氣場。這氣場非常溫暖感人。
真不知道他怎麼寫出來這些故事。我那時常想，這一定是先天帶來的吧！
但是，今晚讀他寫的這個故事，還是讓我想落淚。因為這個故事裡有我和他的影子，雖然說是杜撰，但是那份情感很真實。
James Lin
This is what I remember.
That morning in the country, the wild flowers were so full, so colored.That sky was so blue, the clouds so deep, I felt myself reaching towards them while the trees darkened the grass beside me, as if I could grab one and press the softness of it into my cheek.
I remember seeing the mountains, so indistinct, fading into a blueness in the background. Their peaks so close in height to their troughs, they looked a small thing, just a zigzag in the distance. The sun was shining down on my hair, the high grass tickling my legs. It was the kind of summer days you dream about.
I remember sitting down and picking the grass, stripping the thickness apart, then throwing the pieces in the air, and laughing. The pieces descended quietly, like feathers, back and forth, floating, like a hammock. And I lay back and felt the sun warm my face, the heat like a blanket.
I watched you come out our back door, smiling, your face colored in by the same happiness than adorned the landscape around us. I remember you meeting me halfway in a hug, telling me in that sweet high singsong voice of yours we were going to the lakeside that day. And I almost felt like things were normal.
That morning you made my favorite breakfast. It turns out you probably knew that it would be the last one you made for me. And I would never know.That syrup was so soft, so sweet, the pancakes melting into my mouth.
And then I heard you calling, your voice trailing from outside to where was at, telling me we were leaving.
And we started. I could see you catching your breath, gasping for air even as we walked the short distance to the lake.
And while I see the lake come closer to us, I see you are not well off. You were wheezing. Your face, so pale. And I remember the water was sparkling, and the butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. The scene was idealistic.
Then you knelt down in the grass, and let a butterfly fly to your finger. And you brought that butterfly up to my hands, and let it drop. And then you smiled, and slowly, you fell backward. I almost went to help you up, but then I saw that glassy look in your eyes. And then I knew. I could not stop the tears.With the tears there were huge, hacking coughs. No matter what I tried, I could not stop. I knew you died happy. But it did not help. It did not.
I knelt down and kissed you goodbye. And you were almost alive to me again, putting through my mind images of times that were happy, images of times that we shared together.
And I stopped crying.@*
責任編輯：林芳宇
