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【英文原文2】
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to greet Windy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. “Look, if you don’ t mind, ”I said crossly when Windy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today. ”She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
“Why？”she asked. I turned on her and shouted, “Because my mother died.”――and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child？“Oh, ”she said quietly, “then this is a bad day. ”“Yes, and yesterday and the day before that and ――oh, go away.”“Did it hurt？”“Did what hurt？”I was exasperated with her, with myself. “When she died？”“Of course it hurt.”I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn-looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door. “Hello, ”I said, “I’m Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was. ”“Oh yes, Mrs. Peterson, please come in. ”“Wendy talked of you so much. I ‘m afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please accept my apologies. ”“Not at all――she’s a delightful child, ”I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. “Where is she？”“Wendy died last week, Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia
Maybe she didn’t tell you. ”Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught. “She loved this beach；so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks she declined rapidly. . . . ”Her voice faltered. “She left something for you. . . if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look？”I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with MRS. P printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues――a yellow beach, a blue sea, a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed：
A Sandpiper to Bring You Joy
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten how to love opened wide. I took Wendy’s mother in my arms. “I’m sorry, I‘m sorry, I‘m so sorry, ”I muttered over and over, and we wept together.
The precious little picture is frame d now and hangs in my study. Six words――one for each year of her life――that speak to me of inner harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand――who taught me the gift of love.
