难以说出口的再见

朋友们告诉我：“孩子们长得太快了!”18年后，我终于体会到了其中的含义……

It’s nearly the end of summer break and my son goes out with friends. Ten minutes after he leaves home, I receive his text: Here. It’s the same message I’ve received hundreds of times before—our agreed-upon shorthand to reassure me, and probably him, in some still-unexamined way, that he has arrived safely at his destination.[1] In a matter of days he’ll head to college, and this routine, along with many others that have framed[2] our days and nights, will come to an end. Reading that text triggers[3] images stored safely away in my memory, a tiny book of our lives together.

My constant companion of nine months emerges with his eyes wide open.[4] He’s placed on my chest. I feel his heartbeat reverberating[5] through mine. All I see are beginnings. Friends who visit caution that time is elusive, that he’ll grow up faster than I can imagine, and to savor every moment.[6] But I can’t hear them; it’s all too clichéd[7] and my child has only just arrived. He’s intoxicating[8]. I’m filled with a renewed sense of purpose, of hope, of love. The first few months after he’s born are topsy-turvy[9]—day is night, night is day. When sleep finally returns, so does work. My business suit is tight, my mind preoccupied[10]. I pump milk in a cold, gray bathroom stall.[11]

His teeth begin to appear. Baby bottles give way to solid foods. He points high above his chair to the clock on the wall. “Clock,” he says. It’s his first word, minus the “l,” and it makes me laugh. Soon he is walking, skipping, making angels in the snow. I’m promoted at work. It becomes harder to find the time to make playdates and pediatrician appointments.[12] At lunch I read books about nurturing, teaching, inspiring your child. He calls my office with the help of his baby-sitter. “Momma,” he says, “I’m making you a present.”

The tooth fairy[13] arrives and leaves him handwritten notes. He learns how to add, subtract[14], and read. He rides his shiny bike down a country road with his feet off the pedals.[15]

I quit my job to do freelance[16] writing—everything from training programs to marketing brochures to essays—usually when the rest of the family is sleeping. There’s never enough—money, but now at least we have time.

Saturday nights are always family nights, spent at home. There are countless sporting events. He tries baseball, soccer, and falls for basketball. He wears superhero costumes[17], develops crushes, friendships, and fevers.

We get a dog. He loves this dog with all his heart. The dog loves him back.

One day his height surpasses[18] mine and, seemingly the next, his father’s.

He reads an essay by a sportswriter[19]. It lights a fire in him. He starts to write his own stuff, wandering into my office as I try to juggle[20] freelance assignments.

I feel privileged[21] to read his work.

He learns to do the laundry, scrub the bathroom, and make pasta, though he often professes to forget how to do all three.[22]

He turns 18.

On a cold and rainy Election Day we head out together to vote. After two hours waiting in line, he’s the only teen in sight. It’s not lost on him—by the next morning he has written all about it.

He gets a job as a blogger[23], then starts his own website.

The book’s down to its last pages.

I’ve defined myself as a mother for 18 years. Who am I now? I look in the mirror. In my quest to help him grow wings, I forgot to grow some of my own. Can I find a new sense of purpose, rechannel the love?

Before I was a mother I was a daughter, infused with energy and the unspoken reassurance that my parents would always be there.[24] But I can’t be a daughter again. I’m on my own.

Does purpose—mine, yours, anyone’s—require someone to nurture it, or is it inherent[25] in all of us?

I’ll soon be putting these competing theories to the test.[26]

As I sit down to write this piece, I receive his text: Where are you?

Here, I text back.

Vocabulary

1. agreed-upon: 商定(同意)某事的;shorthand: 简短而意思隐晦的表达;still-unexamined: 仍然未经核实的;destination: 目的地。

2. frame: 构造。

3. trigger: 引发。

4. companion: 陪伴;emerge: 出现。

5. reverberate: 回响。

6. caution: v. 警告，提醒;elusive: 难以捉摸的;savor: 尽情享受。

7. clichéd: 陈词滥调的，老套的。

8. intoxicating: 使人兴奋的。

9. topsy-turvy: 颠倒的，乱七八糟的。

10. preoccupied: 全完被占据的。

11. 我在又冷又暗的卫生间里挤奶。

12. playdate:(为孩子们安排的)欢聚玩耍的日子;pediatrician: 儿科医生的。

13. tooth fairy: 牙仙(儿童相信能进入卧室取走他们脱落的牙齿并留下钱的仙人)。

14. subtract: 做减法。

15. shiny: 发光的;pedal:(自行车或其他机器的)踏板。

16. freelance: 做自由职业的。

17. costume: 服装。

18. surpass: 超过。

19. sportswriter: 体育(资讯)记者。

20. juggle:(尤指吃力地)同时应付(几份工作、多项活动等)。

21. privileged: 荣幸的。

22. laundry: 洗衣服;scrub: 用力擦洗;pasta:(常伴以乳酪、肉酱的)面食;profess: 表明。

23. blogger: 写博客的人，博主。

24. infuse with: 充满(某种感觉);unspoken: 没有明说的，心照不宣的。

25. inherent: 固有的。

26. 不久，我将检验这些相互矛盾的理论。