1. One of my earliest memories starts with me sobbing. I refused to be soothed no matter what Mom and Dad tried. Eventually, Mom took me into the kitchen and sat me down at the breakfast table. "Kan, kan," she said. I stopped crying and watched her, curious. She turned a piece of old wrapping paper over and folded it again. She pleated, packed, tucked, rolled, and twisted until the paper disappeared between her cupped hands. Then she lifted the folded-up paper packet to her mouth and blew into it, like a balloon. "Kan," she said. "Laohu." Suddenly, a little paper tiger stood on the table, the size of two fists placed together.
我最早的一段記憶片段開始于我的一次哭泣。無論爸爸媽媽嘗試什么辦法安慰我，我都拒絕接受。最后，媽媽帶我進(jìn)了廚房，讓我坐在早餐桌旁。“看看這個(gè)，”她說。我停止了哭泣，好奇地看著她。她把一張舊包裝紙翻過來再折疊起來，然后又是一陣打褶、壓緊、折疊、卷起和扭轉(zhuǎn)的操作，直到這張紙捧在她的雙手間。然后，她將這個(gè)折疊起來的紙團(tuán)放到嘴邊，像吹氣球一樣向里面吹氣。“看，”她說，“老虎”。突然，一只有兩個(gè)拳頭那么大的小紙老虎站在了桌子上。
2. I reached out to Mom's creation. Its tail twitched, and it pounced playfully at my finger. "Rawrr-sa," it growled, the sound somewhere between a cat and rustling newspapers. I laughed, startled, and stroked its back with an index finger. At my request, Mom also made a goat, a deer, and a water buffalo out of wrapping paper. I didn't know this at the time, but Mom's kind was special. This was her magic.
我伸手去夠媽媽創(chuàng)造出的這個(gè)小家伙。它的尾巴抽動(dòng)了一下，然后頑皮地朝我手指的方向撲了過來。“嗷嗚，”它咆哮道，這聲音有點(diǎn)兒像貓叫，也有點(diǎn)兒像報(bào)紙的沙沙作響聲。我笑了起來，也被嚇了一跳，然后，我開始用食指輕撫它的背。在我的要求下，媽媽又用包裝紙做了一只山羊、一只鹿和一只水牛。當(dāng)時(shí)我還沒理解到這一點(diǎn)，但媽媽是個(gè)很特別的人。這正是她的神奇所在。
3. Mark, one of the neighbourhood boys, came over years after mom gave me Laohu and the other animals. "Show me your toys." He said. I didn't have any toys except my paper menagerie. Laohu was now very worn, patched all over with tape and glue, evidence of the years of repairs Mom and I had done on him. "Xiao laohu," I said, and stopped. I switched to English. "This is Tiger." "That doesn't look like a tiger at all. Your Mom makes toys for you from trash?" I had never thought of Laohu as trash. Laohu was insulted too and growled and leapt at Mark's face. Mark screamed, more out of fear and surprise than pain. Laohu was only made of paper, after all. Mark grabbed Laohu and crumpled him in his hand and tore him in half. "Here's your stupid cheap Chinese garbage."
馬克是鄰居家的一個(gè)男孩。他在媽媽送我那只老虎和其他那些動(dòng)物幾年后的一天來到了我家。“讓我看看你的玩具吧。”他說。除了那個(gè)折紙動(dòng)物園，我沒有任何其他玩具。那只老虎現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)非常破舊了，全身到處是媽媽和我多年來用膠帶和膠水對(duì)它進(jìn)行修補(bǔ)的痕跡。“小老虎，”我脫口而出，然后立即停了下來，切換到了英語：“這是只老虎。”“那根本不像老虎。你媽媽用垃圾給你做玩具？”我從未想過這只老虎是垃圾。老虎也感受到了侮辱，于是咆哮著跳到馬克的臉上。馬克尖叫起來，這反應(yīng)更多的是出于恐懼和驚訝，而非被老虎撲到的疼痛。畢竟，老虎只是用紙做的。馬克抓住老虎，用手把它揉成一團(tuán)，然后將它撕成了兩半。“這就是你那愚蠢而又廉價(jià)的中國垃圾。”
4. After Mark left, I spent a long time trying, without success, to tape together the pieces, smooth out the paper, and follow the creases to refold Laohu. Slowly, the other animals came into the living room and gathered around us, me and the torn wrapping paper that used to be Laohu, to comfort us. But I was left defeated and empty.
馬克離開后，我花了很長時(shí)間嘗試著將這些碎片粘在一起，將紙展平，然后按照折痕重新將它折疊成老虎的形狀，但沒有成功。慢慢地，其他動(dòng)物也來到了起居室，聚集在我們（我和那曾經(jīng)是老虎現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)被撕成碎片的包裝紙）身邊，安慰我們。但我內(nèi)心中的挫敗感和空虛仍揮之不去。
5. The following days, it turned out that my fight with Mark was not over yet. Mark was popular at school. I came home that Friday at the end of the first two weeks of the school year, depressed, silent, refusing to talk to anyone, especially my mother. Even though I had never told him what happened in school, my dad seemed to understand. "You knew this was going to happen someday. What did you expect?" My dad said to mom. Mom dropped her hands to her side. She sat, looking from Dad to me, and back to Dad again. She tried to speak, stopped, and tried again, and stopped again. "Jack needs to fit in, he can’t if you keep speaking Chinese to him."
事實(shí)證明，接下來的幾天我與馬克間的戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)并未就此結(jié)束。馬克在學(xué)校很受歡迎。在新學(xué)年開學(xué)后第二周的周五，我放學(xué)回到家，沮喪、沉默，并且拒絕與任何人交談，尤其是媽媽。盡管我從未告訴過爸爸最近在學(xué)校發(fā)生的事情，但他似乎明白了一切。“你知道，這樣的事情遲早有一天會(huì)發(fā)生。你還想怎樣？”爸爸對(duì)媽媽說。媽媽將雙手垂在身邊，坐在那里，看看爸爸又看看我，然后又看看爸爸。她試圖說點(diǎn)什么，但停了下來，再次試圖說話，但再次停了下來。”“杰克需要融入這里，但如果你一直跟他說中文，他就無法真正融入。”
6. Mom looked at him. "If I say 'love,' I feel here." She pointed to her lips. "If I say 'ai,' I feel here." She put her hand over her heart. Dad shook his head. "You are in America." "And I want some real toys." I said. Later that evening, I packed the paper menagerie in a large shoebox and put it under the bed.
媽媽看著他，說：“如果我用英文說'愛'，我的感覺在這里。”她指著自己的嘴唇。“如果我用中文說'愛'，我的感覺在這里，”她繼續(xù)說，同時(shí)一只手放在了自己心臟的位置。爸爸搖了搖頭，說：“你在美國。” “我想要一些真正的玩具，”我緊跟著說。那天晚上晚些時(shí)候，我把折紙動(dòng)物園裝進(jìn)一個(gè)大鞋盒里，然后把鞋盒放在了床底下。

7. If Mom spoke to me in Chinese, I refused to answer her. After a while, she tried to use more English. But her accent and broken sentences embarrassed me. I tried to correct her. Eventually, she stopped speaking altogether if I were around. She saw that I was annoyed, and stopped.
如果媽媽用中文跟我說話，我就拒絕回答她。過了一段時(shí)間，她開始嘗試著更多地用英語講話。但她的口音和不完整的表達(dá)使我感到非常尷尬。我試圖糾正她。最后，如果我在附近，她就停止講話，一聲不吭。而且，她看到我惱火的樣子，也會(huì)停止說話。
8. Then the day came that Dad and I stood by the side of Mom, lying on the hospital bed. For years she had refused to go to the doctor for the pain inside her that she said was no big deal. It was Cancer, no cure could help. "Jack, if — " she was caught up in a fit of coughing, and could not speak for some time. "If I don't make it, don't be too sad and hurt your health. Focus on your life. Just keep that box you have in the attic with you, and every year, at Qingming, just take it out and think about me. I'll be with you always." She died soon after. The paper animals did not move since. Perhaps whatever magic had animated them stopped when Mom died. Or perhaps I had only imagined that these paper constructions were once alive.
那天到了，爸爸和我站在醫(yī)院的病床旁，守在躺在病床上的媽媽身邊。多年來，她一直忍受著身體內(nèi)的疼痛，卻始終拒絕去看醫(yī)生，還說這不是什么大不了的事。但這是癌癥，不治之癥。“杰克，如果……”她的話被一陣咳嗽打斷了，然后緩了好長時(shí)間才繼續(xù)說道，“如果我沒挺過去，不要太傷心，這樣會(huì)有損你的健康。專注于你的生活。一定要把你放在閣樓上的那個(gè)盒子保存好，讓它永遠(yuǎn)跟在你身邊。每年清明時(shí)，只要把它拿出來，想想我就好。我永遠(yuǎn)都在你身邊。”說完，她很快便離開了人世。從那以后，那些折紙動(dòng)物就再也沒有動(dòng)過。也許，當(dāng)媽媽去世時(shí)，是什么魔法讓它們不再動(dòng)了；或者，它們?cè)?jīng)在我面前的活靈活現(xiàn)，只存在于我的想象之中。
9. It was the first weekend in April, two years after Mom's death. I was home, lazily flipping through the TV channels. Then…a rustle. I looked up and saw that a ball of wrapping paper and torn tape was on the floor next to the bookshelf. I walked over to pick it up for the trash. The ball of paper shifted, unfurled itself, and I saw that it was Laohu, who I hadn't thought about in a very long time. "Rawrr-sa." Mom must have put him back together after I had given up. He was smaller than I remembered. Or maybe it was just that back then my fists were smaller. I sat down on the floor, and reached out a finger. Laohu's tail twitched, and he pounced playfully. I laughed, stroking his back. Laohu purred under my hand. “How've you been, old buddy? “Laohu stopped playing, and proceeded to unfold himself.
這是媽媽去世兩年后四月里的第一個(gè)周末。我在家里懶洋洋地切換著電視頻道。然后......一陣沙沙作響聲進(jìn)入了我的耳朵。我抬起頭，看到書架旁邊的地板上有一團(tuán)包裝紙和一些撕下來的膠帶。我走了過去，把它們撿了起來，準(zhǔn)備丟進(jìn)垃圾桶。紙團(tuán)移動(dòng)一下，然后展開了。我看到它就是那只老虎，我已經(jīng)好久沒想起過它了。“嗷嗚”。媽媽一定是在我放棄它后，又把它恢復(fù)了原狀。它比我記憶中的要小。或者，也許只是那時(shí)我的拳頭比現(xiàn)在小。我坐在地板上，伸出一根手指。老虎的尾巴抽動(dòng)了一下，然后調(diào)皮地?fù)淞诉^來。我笑了，輕撫著他的背。老虎在我手下發(fā)出咕嚕咕嚕的叫聲。“你過得怎么樣，老朋友？“老虎停下了咕嚕聲，然后繼續(xù)把自己展開了。
10. I had never learned to read Chinese, but I knew the characters for son, and they were at the top corner of the piece of paper Laohu was made of. I went to the computer to check the Internet. Today was Qingming. I rushed outside and asked a Chinese tourist on the street to help me read the rest.
我從來沒有學(xué)過中文，但我認(rèn)識(shí)“兒子”的漢字，這兩個(gè)字就在折成老虎的那張紙的上角。我用電腦在互聯(lián)網(wǎng)上查了一下。今天是清明。我沖到外面，在街上請(qǐng)一位中國游客幫我讀完了這張紙上剩余的漢字。
11. It was a letter, written by my mother. “Son, we haven't talked in a long time. So I decided to write to you. I'm going to write in one of the paper animals I made for you that you used to like so much. I was so happy when you were born and I looked into your face and saw shades of my mother, my father, and myself. I had lost my entire family, everything I ever knew and loved. But there you were, and your face was proof that they were real. I hadn't made them up. Son, I know that you do not like your Chinese eyes, which are my eyes. I know that you do not like your Chinese hair, which is my hair. But can you understand how much joy your very existence brought to me? And can you understand how it felt when you stopped talking to me and won't let me talk to you in Chinese? I felt I was losing everything all over again. Why won't you talk to me, son? The pain makes it hard to write.”
這是媽媽寫的一封信：“兒子，我們很久沒有談過了。于是，我決定寫信給你。我要把這封信寫在你曾經(jīng)非常喜愛的我為你做的一個(gè)折紙動(dòng)物上。你出生時(shí)我很開心。當(dāng)時(shí)我看著你的臉，我看到了我的母親、父親和我自己的影子。我失去了我的整個(gè)家庭，以及我所知道和喜愛的一切。但是你來了，你的臉就是那些我曾經(jīng)擁有但現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)失去的一切真實(shí)存在過的證據(jù)——這一切并不是我編造的。兒子，我知道你不喜歡你的中國眼睛，可那是我的眼睛；我知道你不喜歡你的中國頭發(fā)，可那是我的頭發(fā)。但是，你能理解你的存在給我?guī)砹硕嗌倏鞓穯幔磕隳芾斫猱?dāng)你不再跟我說話，并且不讓我用中文跟你說話時(shí)我的感受嗎？我覺得我又一次失去了一切。兒子，你為什么不想跟我說話？這種痛苦甚至無法用文字表達(dá)。”
12. Following the creases, I refolded the paper back into Laohu. I cradled him in the crook of my arm, and as he purred, we began the walk home.
我沿著折痕將這張紙重新折回了老虎的形狀，將它抱在臂彎里。然后，當(dāng)他再次發(fā)出咕嚕聲時(shí)，我們開始朝家的方向走去。