All Flowers Are Beautiful
所有的花儿都美丽
I grew up in a small town where the elementary school was a ten-minute walk from my house and in an age, not so long ago, when children could go home for lunch and find their mothers waiting.
我在一个小镇上长大，在那儿，从我家步行到我就读的小学只要10分钟。在那个时代——其实就是不久以前，孩子们可以回家吃午饭，妈妈总在等着。
At the time, I did not consider this a luxury , although today it certainly would be. I took it for granted that mothers were the sandwich-makers, the finger-painting appreciators and the homework monitors. I never questioned that this ambitious, intelligent woman, who had had a career before I was born and would eventually return to a career, would spend almost every lunch hour throughout my elementary school years just with me.
但那时，我并没意识到这有多奢侈；而今，这肯定是一种奢望。可我当时还以为妈妈就该做三明治，就该鉴赏手指画，就该检查家庭作业。不仅如此，我还从没觉得有什么不对：这个志向远大、聪明伶俐的女人，在我出生前曾有一份自己的事业，有朝一日又将重新投身于自己的事业，却在我整个小学阶段，几乎每天的午餐时间都和我一起度过。
I only knew that when the noon bell rang, I would race breathlessly home. My mother would be standing at the top of the stairs, smiling down at me with a look that suggested I was the only important thing she had on her mind. For this, I am forever grateful.
那时候，我只知道中午放学的铃一响，我就会气喘吁吁朝家里跑去。妈妈总会站在楼梯的上端，笑容满面地注视着我，分明在告诉我：在她心里，我是惟一重要的。对此，我永远心存感激。
Some sounds bring it all back: the high-pitched squeal of my mother’s teakettle, the rumble of the washing machine in the basement, the jangle of my dog’s license tags as she bounded down the stairs to greet me. Our time together seemed devoid of the gerrymandered schedules that now pervade my life.
一些声音总能勾起我对往事的回忆，比如说：妈妈的茶壶烧开水时发出的又长又尖的高声鸣叫，地下室里洗衣机发出的隆隆轰鸣声以及我的小狗欢跳着下楼迎接我时脖子上的小牌发出的叮当声。那时可不像现在，如今我的生活完全被各种日程安排所操纵。
One lunchtime when I was in the third grade will stay with me always. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me. But no matter how easily I delivered them at home, as soon as I stepped onstage, every word disappeared from my head.
三年级时的一个午餐时间我将永志难忘。那时候，我在学校排演的一出话剧中被选中饰演公主。在那几个星期里，妈妈费心地陪着我一遍又一遍地排练台词。但是，无论我在家里把台词背得多娴熟，一上舞台，那些词儿就消失得无影无踪了。
Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator’s part to the play, and asked me to switch roles. Her words, kindly delivered, still stung, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.
最后，老师把我叫到一旁，向我解释说，她为这出戏写了一个旁白的角色，要我换成旁白。尽管她说得很委婉，但仍刺痛了我，尤其是当我看到别的女孩取代自己演公主的时候，我心里难受极了。
I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day.
那天中午回家吃饭时，我没把这件事告诉妈妈。
