母亲的礼物Wherever You Are（1/2）

罗杰·迪安·凯泽/Roger Dean Kiser

When the school bell rang, I headed out the back door and down Sprg Park Road.It was not easy for a ten-year-old, runaway boy to walk the streets of Javille, Florida.I traveled for what seed to be iles before I crossed over the Ma Street Bridge.I walked, as fast as I uld, through the downtown area huntg for sothg to eat.

I ade y way down to Bay Street and sped and stoodthe doorway of the b station.I watched as the dirty lookg b drank fro their brs and argued with one another.

“Sonny!you go to that store across the street and cashthese here gss bottles for ? I’ll buy you a dy,”said the old woan.

“Sure.Ido that for you for nothg,”I told her.

I loaded the bottles to the store a few at a ti.Her rge wooden type wagon cart was filled to thewith all varieties of soda bottles.

I cashedthe bottles and I walked back out of the store to give her the oney.

“ you unt the oney out for , Sonny?”she asked .

“’t you unt?”I questioned.

“It’s not that, Sonny.I jt ’t see very well,”she told .

As I stood there untg out the oneyher hand, e boys walked up and began pullg otail.One of the boys was tryg to grab the oney fro our hands while the other boy pulled her backwards.I idiately closed y hands and I fell to the ground tryg to catch the s which had fallen.

“OUCH!”I yelled out as one of the boys sed on y hand, png it to the ground.

“Boy, you sure stk dy,”said one of the boys.

“You boys go on now.Leavealone!”she yelled out at the o.

“Shut up you retarded old bag!”yelled the young an as he started across the street with his friend.

I got back down on y knees and I picked up what oney had bee on the ground.Aga, I reuhe oney and I pced ither hands.

“You sure unts awful good f little like you are.And youunt fast too.”she said, as she ughed.

“Are you retarded too, like ?”I asked the old woan.

“You a’t retarded boy.You as sart as a whip.Look how fast youunt.And you’re real cute too.”she replied.

“You really thk so?”I said, with a big sile on y face, and y eyes open wide.

For the reader of the day, I walked around and talked with the old woan.I stayed as close to her as possible, all the while hopg that she would once aga say sothg nice about .

Throughout the years, I have often thought about that old woan, especially when I drive through a rge city and see soone phg a shoppg cart dowreet.

I uld unt on one hand the tis that any grown adult ever gavea plt or adefeel proud of yself.The few tis that it did happen, I soaked up the experiently how she slled.Ireber her legs beg fat at the ankles and the any vesher legs were dark and broken.Her lips were rough and cracked and her hands were scarred and she had any sores about her hands and wrists.

But what I reber ost about her was her kd sile.

Not the kd of look that one has when they actually sile—it was a look that she t have been born with—a nstant sile which stayed on her face even when she was restg on the b s bench.I reber we parted pahe afternoon on the day we t.I stood for a while, watchg her as she disappeared to the eveng.

I never saw her aga after that.

But that was okay with .

Even if it was only for a ont, she gavewhat I needed fro a“other”—the thought that I ight not be retarded, that I was handso, a of all, that I was“sart as a whip.”

Those few words turo feelgs and they followedfor the50 years of y life.

This year, the Mother’s Day flowers are for you.Wherever you are.

下课铃一响，我就冲出后门，沿着斯普林公园路而下。对于一个十岁的逃学孩子而言，走在佛罗里达杰克逊维尔的大街上并不是件悠闲的事。我走了漫长的一段路，才穿过缅街桥。我尽量加快脚步，准备穿过市区去找些东西吃。

走到海湾路，我停下来站在公共汽车站门口。我看到脏兮兮的流浪汉喝着牛皮纸袋里的东西，并互相吵闹着。

“小家伙！你能到对面的店里帮我把瓶子换成钱吗？我会给你买糖吃。”一位老妇人说。

“好的，不过我什么都不要。”我对她说。我每次只能拿一点瓶子到商店。因为她那木制的大手正推着堆满了各种各样汽水瓶的车子。

我进商店把瓶子换成现金，然后出来交给她。

“小家伙，你能帮我数数这些钱吗？”她问我。

“您不会数吗？”我问。

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