■母亲之盒
The Mother Box
◎Linda Webb Gustafson/琳达·韦布·古斯塔夫森
Late one December evening, bathed in the soft light of the Christmas tree, I lay on the couch with my eyes closed, letting my memories swirl[5] around in pools of thought. Returning to the present, I opened my eyes and immediately my gaze fell upon a beautiful miniature Christmas city that lined my fireplace mantel. Well, it was really only half a city, as my dad had divided it between my sister and me twenty-five years earlier after our mother had passed away.
Little twinkle lights glowed from behind red cellophane windows in the tiny cardboard houses that had lined the living-room bookshelves of my childhood.
With no warning, the words tumbled out like a spilled glass of aged wine words that had been hidden in my heart a long time, waiting to surface, “Mom, I miss you so much.”
An ocean of tears ebbed[6] and flowed for nearly an hour, and then the
名人语库
～Oliver Wendell Holmes
——奥利弗·温戴尔·荷马
12月的一个深夜，屋内圣诞树的灯光柔和而又温馨，我闭着眼睛躺在沙发上，思绪游荡开来，回忆起种种往事。当我张开双眼回到现实中时，我的目光忽然落在壁炉架上陈列着的那个精美的圣诞之城微缩模型上。事实上，那只不过是半个模型罢了。25年前母亲去世时，父亲把这个微缩模型的一半分给了姐姐，另一半分给了我。
在我小的时候，这座小小的纸板房总是放在客厅的书架上。红色玻璃纸做的窗户，后面装着一闪一闪的小灯，宛如星星在眨着眼睛。
没有任何征兆地，长久以来深藏在我心底的一句话，突然就像一杯打翻的陈年红酒一般倾泄而出：“妈妈，我是如此地想念你。”
在接下来的一小时里，我哭哭停停，不知流了多少眼泪，直到心
idea emerged. If I felt this way then surely my brother and sister did, too. Twenty-five years, five senses, one box that’s what I would do I would capture the essence of my mother and place her in a box a Mother Box one for each of her children.
I began to think of our mother in terms of what scent encompassed her, what look best described her, what sound echoed “Mother”, and so on.
Including my ten-year-old daughter, Shiloah, in my quest, we searched to put together pieces of a grandmother she’d never met.
First came the box all the memories would be housed in. Such a vast display we found. Flowered ones of every type ever found in a garden, ones with stars on them, moons, old-fashioned Victorian images, hearts and ones with Christmas themes, and then we saw them angels! Yes, for a mother no longer of this Earth, it was perfect. But, there were only two. One sister, one brother I’d make one for myself another time.
Oddly enough, the entire day was like that. We’d find two of just what we needed, no more, no less. With mounting excitement we took our treasures home and wrapped them with great love.
A river of memories wound its way through a thickly wooded forest of words, painting a picture of a thousand yesterdays, growing straight and tall like new seedlings among the old growth. Sealed with a simple envelope, they awaited their intended.
Just the right time presented itself to give my brother his box. As his eyes fell upon its contents, this man of thirty-seven was reduced to tears. My father was standing there, and I’ll never forget the faraway look on his face. The years were melting away with each item my brother lifted from the Mother Box.
A package of grits representing a woman who grew up in the South and
里忽然冒出一个主意来。我想，如果我对母亲的感觉如此强烈，那么我的兄弟姐妹们也一定感同身受。我要把这25年的时间通过五种感官做成一只盒子——一只“母亲之盒”，每只盒子里放入代表母亲特质的东西，分别送给兄弟姐妹们。
我开始回想，什么香味是母亲身上特有的，什么样子最能代表母亲，什么声音最能唤起对母亲的回忆，如此种种。
我们开始努力拼凑关于母亲的记忆碎片，就连我那10岁的女儿夏洛伊，也在我的要求下帮忙搜寻从未见过的外祖母的点点滴滴。
最重要的是，这个盒子必须包含我们对母亲的所有回忆。我们找到了很多很多，比如，花园里能找到的各种花朵，带有星星或月亮的各种物品，老式的维多利亚女王头像，心型纪念品以及各种圣诞饰物。我们还找到了天使图案的纪念品。的确，对于已然去世的母亲来说，天使是最完美的纪念物。但是我们只找到了两个，一个给我姐姐，一个给我哥哥。我只能下次再给自己重新做一个了。
非常奇怪的是，一天下来，我们找到的每种纪念物都只有两个，不多不少。每当找到什么东西时，我们总是异常兴奋，满怀爱意，然后小心翼翼地将其包好，把我们的宝贝带回家去。
回忆就像一条蜿蜒曲折的河流，穿过茂密的丛林，绘出一幅由成千上万个昨日组成的美丽画卷。新的回忆，如同新长成的幼苗，在老树旁越长越高，越长越挺拔。回忆也像一封往日的信札，用朴素的信封简单封缄，在预定的时间被送至收信人手中，不早不晚，恰到好处。
我在适当的时候把盒子送给了我的哥哥。当他看见盒子里的物品时，这个37岁的男人忍不住潸然泪下。那时，我父亲也站在旁边，他脸上若有所思的表情让我永生难忘。看着我哥哥将盒中之物一件一件地取出来，这么多年的岁月顷刻间都融化成浓浓的回忆。
一包粗燕麦粉，尽管我们住在俄勒冈州，但在南方长大的母亲经
served it to her children for breakfast in Oregon, her favorite Johnny Mathis music, a shiny silver Christmas bow that felt like the party dresses she wore, a single silk red rose representing dozens my father had given her. I included the famous story of how once when they were courting, he brought long-stemmed roses that were as long as he was tall! She adored red roses. Finally, a bottle of her favorite perfume, Emeraude. I could hardly believe they still made it, but there it was, that familiar green. The shape of the bottle had changed over the years, but when I sprayed the misty fragrance into the air, it was unmistakably the scent of our mother.
This journey of the heart, traveled with my daughter, brought us together in spirit. We were both bound with the cords of love from the life of a woman long gone, yet still sewn tightly in the memory quilt[7] of our minds. We saw the continuing thread of life reflected in each other’s eyes.
Then my daughter handed me a box. Inside was the essence of my mother the fragrance of another generation. I reached out to touch her legacy, opened the perfume bottle and sprayed[8], and she surrounded us.
常喂孩子们吃这种食物；她最喜爱的约翰·马西斯的音乐唱片；一枚闪亮的银质蝴蝶结，看上去非常像她穿过的晚礼服的风格；一朵真丝红玫瑰，代表父亲曾经送给她的很多玫瑰花。母亲非常钟爱红玫瑰，并且，玫瑰花也隐喻着发生在他们之间的故事：当初恋爱时，父亲曾经送给母亲一支玫瑰花，花茎很长，据说和父亲的身高一样长！最后，盒子里还有一瓶她最喜爱的埃莫罗德香水。令我难以置信的是，现在他们居然还在生产这种香水。尽管瓶身的形状变了，但那绿莹莹的颜色却是再也熟悉不过。我朝着空气喷洒香水，飘渺的香气四溢，那一刻，我确信不疑，那就是母亲身上的气味。
我和女儿共同完成了这段心灵之旅，我们彼此在精神上也更加亲近了。通过爱的纽带，我们与一个逝去已久的生命——母亲，连结在一起；然而，我们也在内心深处细密地编织着属于自己的厚重记忆。在彼此眼中，我们看到了丝丝缕缕生命延续的光芒。
女儿随后将一只盒子交给我，里面保存着我母亲的特别气味，那是一种属于上一代人的香气。我伸手取出香水瓶，向四周喷洒。香气弥漫开来，恍惚之间，仿佛母亲一直就在我们身边，从未离去。