my son brendan cried his first day of school. even mrs. phillips, a kind, soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind, could not coax him to a seat. his eyes streamed, his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a strawberry. i plucked him off and escaped.
it wasn't that brendan didn't like school. he just didn't like being apart from me. we'd had some good times, he and i, in those preschool years. we played at the pool. we skated on quiet morning ice. we sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighborhood coffee parties. now in grade 1, brendan was faced with five hours of wondering what i was doing with my day.
brendan always came home for lunch, the only one of his class not to eat at his desk. but once home, fed and hugged, a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow—he wanted to go back to school to play! so i walked him back, waited with him until he spotted someone he knew, then left. he told me once that he watched me until he couldn't see me anymore, so i always walked fast and never looked back.
one day when i took brendan back after lunch, he spied a friend, kissed me goodbye, and scampered right off. i went, feeling pleased for him, celebrating his new independence, his entry into the first-grade social loop. then—i didn't know why—i glanced back. and there he was. the playground buzzed all around him, kids everywhere, and he stood, his chin tucked close, his body held small, his face intent but not sad, blowing me kisses. so brave, so unashamed, so completely loving, brendan was watching me go.
no book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick, raw glimpse into my child's soul. my mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog grown old and him saying, "dry up, mom. it's not like i'm leaving the country." in my mind i tore up the card every mother signs saying she'll let her child go when he's ready. i looked at my brendan, his shirt tucked in, every button done up, his toes just turned in a bit, and i thought, "ok, you're six for me forever." with a smile i had to really dig for, i blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.
"纯洁的爱"英语作文译文:
我儿子布兰登第一天上学哭了,甚至连那位在六岁儿童心目中和蔼可亲、声音柔和的菲利普斯老师也不能把他劝诱到座位上去。他泪流满面,鼻子抽搭着,紧紧抓住我,就象蜗牛附着在草莓上一样。我猛力地把他扯开,逃走了。
倒不是布兰登不喜欢上学,他只是不想和我分开。我们,他与我,在他上学之前有过一些快乐时光。我们在游泳池嬉戏,在安静的早晨滑冰,我们也曾把街坊举办的每周一次的咖啡派对上馈赠盘中的食物吃掉了一半。而现在上一年级了,布兰登每天有五小时要琢磨我在干什么。
布兰登总是回家吃午饭,他是班上唯一不再教室里吃午饭的学生。可是一旦到了家,吃饱了,也拥抱过我了,他的眉毛就会轻轻地皱起来,脸上露出向往的神色--他想回学校去玩!于是我就走着送他回去,等他看到了认识的人再离开。有一次他告诉我,他会一直目送我,直到看不见为止,于是我便总是走得很快,从不回头。
有一天午饭后,我巴布兰登送回去时,他看到了一个朋友,就跟我吻别,蹦蹦跳跳地跑开了。我为他感到高兴,为他获得新的独立而庆祝,庆祝他从此进入了一年级社交圈。但是,我也不知为什么,离开时回头望了一眼。他就在那儿,操场上到处是孩子,在他周围叽叽喳喳,可他就站在那儿向我飞吻,下巴扬起,身体缩得小小的,脸上的表情很坚决但并不悲伤。布兰登勇敢地目送我离开,毫不害羞,充满了万分爱意。
突如其来地瞥见了儿子毫无遮掩的灵魂深处,我毫无准备,也从来没有哪本育儿书教过我。我的思绪跳到了十五年后,儿子打好行囊,他的小狗也老了,那时他说:“妈,把眼泪擦擦,我又不是出国。”所有的母亲手里都有一张牌,写着:只要孩子准备好离开,就由他去。在我的脑海中,我把这张牌撕掉了。我看着我的布兰登,他的衬衫塞在裤子里,纽扣都扣得整整齐齐,两脚还有点内八字,于是就想:“嗯对你我来说永远是六岁。”我拼命地挤出了一丝微笑,给他一个飞吻,转身走开了。
正在阅读:
纯洁的爱(Purelove)11-02
谢谢你陪我一起走过作文800字07-17
有关写美食的作文:肉夹馍12-09
二年级的数学日记100字09-21
父亲的手作文500字07-17
高中坚持梦想议论文800字07-18
拔“萝卜”作文300字07-16
狐假虎威续编350字11-26
宇宙海盗艾里逊题记——VI05-28
努力工作有利健康(HardWorkIsGoodforHealth)11-02
这里风景美作文400字07-21