加载中…英语美文：Susan's magic carpet 苏珊的“魔毯”
(2012-07-05 22:24:56)
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英语美文：Susan's magic carpet 苏珊的“魔毯”
女儿生日那天，她最好的朋友苏珊送给她一块地毯的零头布料。女儿失望地说：“难道这就是我的好朋友吗？送给我一小块毫无用处的地毯！”然而，在拜访过苏珊家之后，这块地毯像被施了魔法一般，变成了女儿最宝贵的生日礼物。
Wrinkles of confusion rippled across Holly's forehead as
she unwrapped the gift from her best friend, Susan.
"I...I thought you could use it for something." Susan's
stammered explanation did nothing to help us understand why a
twelve-by-eighteen-inch dark blue carpet remnant was being
presented as a birthday gift.
My heart went out to our daughter. Starting out at a new
school during her freshman year had been a difficult adjustment.
Until she met Susan, Holly had experienced little success making
new friends.
The murmured "thanks" was barely audible as Holly tried
valiantly not to allow her disappointment to show. She laid the
piece of carpet on the kitchen counter, and the two girls headed
outside to play with the family dogs.
The extent of Holly's disappointment over the incident
didn't become evident until the following evening when she came
downstairs to say good night. "Well, I guess we know how much my
best friend thinks of me, huh, Mom?" Her attempt at a breezy tone
failed miserably.
Still bewildered by the situation myself, I didn't have
much to offer in the way of enlightenment. "I'm so sorry, honey,"
was all I could manage to say.
The next morning, I carried a bulging kitchen sack
outside. My heart wrenched as I lifted the lid of the trash can and
saw Susan's carpet lying among the other discarded items.
Hesitating only a moment, I reached in and plucked it from amid the
debris. After giving it a light brushing, I brought it into the
house and tucked it away in the hall closet. Overshadowed by the
business of daily living, the carpet was soon
forgotten.
Prior to Holly's birthday, Susan had been a regular
visitor in our home. On several occasions, she rode the bus home
with Holly and was one of the few friends ever permitted to stay
over on a school night. The girls did their homework together and
went to bed at a reasonable hour.
Now as I slid the evening meal into the oven, I realized
it had been nearly three weeks since we'd even heard mention of
Susan's name. I missed her warm smile and eager-to-please
ways.
A rustle at the front door told me Holly had arrived home
from school. "Susan invited me to come over to her house after
school tomorrow," she announced as she plunked her books down on
the kitchen table. Although her voice carried a so-what attitude, I
sensed she was pleased by the invitation.
In spite of the number of times Susan had visited with
us, our invitations were never returned. "She wants you to come,
too, so you can meet her foster mom." The words "foster mom"
dangled in the air like a spent birthday balloon. Susan never
talked about her home life, and we didn't find it necessary to
pry.
Arrangements were made, and the girls rode home together
on the school bus the following day. As I negotiated the winding
country road that led to her house, Susan babbled nervously about
her foster mom and the seventeen cats she had taken in and cared
for with Susan's help. Several of these foster kitties scattered as
we pulled into the rutted gravel driveway.
A tall angular woman wearing a shapeless tan sweater over
navy blue pants stood in the screened doorway to greet us as we
approached the small farmhouse. "Excuse the mess," she apologized,
holding the door open while we threaded our way through stuff that
seemed to be everywhere. Knowing my reputation for neatness,
Holly's eyes darted in my direction to quickly assess my reaction
to such chaos. Susan's foster mom waved a hand toward the kitchen
counter, which was barely visible through the assortment of cat
medicines. "This is my medicine cabinet," she
explained.
Susan ushered us through the house. It seemed to be alive
with four-legged fur balls roaming underfoot and sprawling across
the backs of the dingy sofa and chairs. She proudly showed us her
room, which was sparsely but neatly decorated with used
furnishings. A tarnished picture frame sitting on a crate beside
the bed contained pictures of Susan's parents and siblings from
whom, we later learned, she had long since been
separated.
As the girls flopped down on the grayish-white bedspread
to compare notes about the school day, I followed Susan's foster
mom - who introduced herself as Glenda - into the kitchen. After
clearing a small area, Glenda placed a couple of mugs on the table.
Her hand trembled slightly as she poured us each a cup of steaming
black coffee. The tightness of her features began to relax as we
sipped our coffee and chatted about her cats.
A warm glow shone in her eyes as she revealed to me her
fondness for Susan. But her expression turned pensive when she
referred briefly to the girl's past. In a short time, I came to
respect this generous-hearted woman who had opened her home to a
young girl and attempted to make a difference in her
life.
As daylight began to fade, we offered our thanks for the
visit and said good-bye.
Holly sat quietly in the car on the way home. Stealing a
glance, I noticed her back was ramrod-straight. Her head and
shoulders were thrust forward as if willing the car to move faster.
No sooner had we come to a stop in the driveway than she flung open
the car door and walked purposefully toward the side gate. Curious,
I shifted into park and followed. A lump caught in my throat as I
observed my daughter standing next to the trash can peering inside.
Her shoulders slumped as she replaced the lid and shuffled into the
house.
After pulling the car into the garage, I went inside and
headed for the hall closet. By this time, Holly was sitting at the
kitchen table staring out the window.
"Is this what you were looking for?" I placed the piece
of carpet on the table in front of her.
"Thanks, Mom." A tear or two slipped from her eye and
splashed onto the dark blue remnant that, as if by magic, had
become the most precious birthday present in the whole
world.
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