Old friends. They finish your sentences, they remember the cat that ran away when you were twelve, and they tell you the truth when you’ve had a bad haircut. But mostly, they are always there for you—whether it’s in person or via late night phone calls—through good times and bad. But as the years pass, it becomes increasingly difficult to see each other, to make new memories. Fortunately, my high school girlfriends and I vowed long ago not to let this happen. We vowedto have reunions.

　　老朋友。他們會接完你沒說完的句子，他們記得在你十二歲時跑掉的那只貓，如果你剪了一個很糟糕的發型，他們會跟你說實話。但主要的是，不論是在美好抑或糟糕的日子里，他們總會在你身邊——或是面對面交流，或是深夜與你通電話。但是隨著年月流逝，彼此越來越難見到對方，也越來越難制造新的回憶了。幸運的是，很早以前，我與我的一幫高中女友們曾立下誓言不讓這樣的事發生。我們許諾一定要重聚。

　　A few months ago, we met up for a three-day weekend in the American Southwest. We grew up together in Maine and have said for years that we should have an annual event, yet it’s often postponed or canceled due to schedule conflicts. Not this year.

　　幾個月前的一個周末，我們在美國西南部聚了三天。我們一起在緬因州長大，這幾年來一直都在說我們應該有個一年一度的聚會，但通常都因為日程計劃沖突而延遲或取消。今年終于如愿了。

　　Four of us-two from San Francisco, one from Boston, and one from Seattle-boarded planes bound for Santa Fe, New Mexico, where one of the ganglives and works for an art gallery. Two years ago, she moved there-escaped, rather-from the film industry in New York City, where she led a life that felt too fast, too unfulfilling. The artist in her longed for vibrant landscapes and starry moonlit skies. She wanted to drive a truck on dusty roads, a trusty dog at her side, riding shotgun. She got all that and found love, too. She is happy.

　　我們一行四人——兩個來自舊金山，一個來自波士頓，還有一個來自西雅圖——登上了飛往新墨西哥州圣菲的航班。我們這幫人中有一個住在圣菲，為那里的一家畫廊工作。兩年前，她搬到那里——更準確地說是從紐約的電影業中——逃離出來。她當時覺得在紐約生活節奏太快，太沒有成就感。她那藝術家的本性向往生機盎然的自然景致和繁星點綴的月夜。她希望能在塵土飛揚的路上開著卡車，有只忠誠的狗坐在前排的乘客座位，陪伴她左右。這一切都實現了，她還找到了愛情。她是幸福快樂的。