My wife, Loretta, who had terminal pancreatic cancer, received a package containing a beautiful white ceramic swan.
我的妻子洛蕾塔得了晚期胰腺癌。她收到了一個包裹里面裝著一只陶瓷天鵝。
It had cost $100, and our bills were multiplying rapidly.
它價值100美元,而當(dāng)時我們(用于醫(yī)療等方面的花銷)已經(jīng)如流水。
“How could you do this?” I burst out.
“你怎么可以這樣?”我咆哮道。
“I ordered it a long time ago. I really wanted it,” she replied tearfully.
“我很早以前就定了,而且我真的很想要,”妻子淚流滿面的說道。
“It’s all right,” I said, ashamed.
“好吧。”我說著感到內(nèi)疚。
“I love you, Bill, and I don’t want to die,” she said.
“比爾,我愛你,而且我也不想死。”妻子又這樣說道。
“I love you too,” I said.
“我也愛你。”我回答道。
The darkness of my scolding turned into a bright moment of mutual love.
于是,本來是我無情的責(zé)罵,就這樣演變成了一段充滿愛的片刻。
Twenty-five years later, the swan remains. That moment is etched upon my heart.
25年了,這只陶瓷天鵝依舊還在,它似乎提醒著我,而那段與妻子的對話已經(jīng)被深深地刻在心里。