評論
打印
To this day I remember my mums letters.
至今我依然記得母親的信。
It all started in December 1941.
事情要從 1941 年 12月說起。
Every night she sat at the big table in the kitchen and wrote to my brother Johnny, who had been drafted that summer.
母親每晚都坐在廚房的大飯桌旁邊，給我弟弟約翰寫信。那年夏天約翰應(yīng)征入伍。
We had not heard from him since the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.
自從日本襲擊珍珠港以后，他就一直杳無音信。
I didnt understand why my mum kept writing Johnny when he never wrote back.
約翰從未回信，我不明白母親為何還要堅持寫下去。
Wait and see-well get a letter from him one day, she claimed.
可母親還是堅持說： 等著瞧吧，總有一天他會給我們回信的。
Mum said that there was a direct link from the brain to the written word that was just as strong as the light God has granted us.
她深信思想和文字是直接相連，這種聯(lián)系就像上帝賦予人類的光芒一樣強(qiáng)大，
She trusted that this light would find Johnny.
而這道光芒終會照耀到約翰的身上。
I dont know if she said that to calm herself, dad or all of us down.
雖然我不肯定她是否只是在安慰自己，或是父親，或者是我們幾個孩子，
But I do know that it helped us stick together, and one day a letter really did arrive.
但我們一家人卻因此更加親密。而最終我們終于等到了約翰的回信，
Johnny was alive on an island in the Pacific.
原來他駐扎在太平洋的一個島嶼上，安然無恙。
I had always been amused by the fact that mum signed her letters, Cecilia Capuzzi, and I teased her about that.
母親總以塞西莉婭·卡普奇署名，每每令我忍俊不禁，還要嘲笑她幾句。
Why dont you just write Mum? I said.
我問： 為什么不直接寫母親呢?
I hadnt been aware that she always thought of herself as Cecilia Capuzzi.
以前我一直沒有留意到她把自己當(dāng)成塞西莉婭·卡普奇，而不是母親。
Not as Mum. I began seeing her in a new light, this small delicate woman, who even in high-heeled shoes was barely one and a half meters tall.
我不禁以新的眼光打量自己的母親，她是多么優(yōu)雅，又是那么矮小，就算穿上高跟鞋，她的身高依然不足一米五。
She never wore make-up or jewelry except for a wedding ring of gold.
母親向來素面朝天，除了手上戴的婚戒，她基本是不戴其他的首飾。
Her hair was fine,sleek and black and always put up in a knot in the neck.
她的頭發(fā)順滑烏亮，盤在頸后，
She wouldnt hear of getting a haircut or a perm.
她從不剪短或燙曲。
Her small silver-rimmed pince-nez only left her nose when she went to bed.
只有在睡覺的時候，她才摘下那副小小的銀絲眼鏡。
Whenever mum had finished a letter, she gave it to dad for him to post it.
每次母親寫完信，就會把信交給父親去郵寄。
Then she put the water on to boil, and we sat down at the table and talked about the good old days when our Italian-American family had been a family of ten: mum, dad and eight children.
然后她把水燒開，和我們圍坐在桌旁，聊聊過去的好日子。從前我們這個意裔的美國家庭可是人丁旺盛：父母親和我們八個兄弟姐妹。
Five boys and three girls. It is hard to understand that they had all moved away from home to work,enroll in the army, or get married. All except me.
五男三女，濟(jì)濟(jì)一堂。現(xiàn)在他們都因工作、入伍或婚姻紛紛離開了家，只有我留下來，想想真覺匪夷所思。
Around next spring mum had got two more sons to write to.
第二年春天，母親也要開始給另外兩個兒子寫信了。
Every evening she wrote three different letters which she gave to me and dad afterwards so we could add our greetings.
每天晚上，她先寫好三封內(nèi)容不同的信交給我和父親，然后我們再加上自己的問候。
Little by little the rumour about mums letters spread.
母親寫信的事漸漸傳開。
One day a small woman knocked at our door. Her voice trembled as she asked: Is it true you write letters?
一天，一個矮小的女人來敲我們家的門，用顫抖的聲音問： 你真的會寫信嗎?
I write to my sons.
我寫給我的兒子。
And you can read too? whispered the woman.
那么你也能讀信咯?女人小聲問。
Sure.
當(dāng)然。
The woman opened her bag and pulled out a pile of airmail letters. Read… please read them aloud to me.
女人打開背包，掏出一疊航空信。 請，請您大聲讀給我聽好嗎?
The letters were from the womans son who was a soldier in Europe, a red-haired boy who mum remembered having seen sitting with his brothers on the stairs in front of our house.
信是女人在歐洲參戰(zhàn)的兒子寫來的，母親依稀還記得他的模樣，他有一頭紅色的頭發(fā)，常和他的兄弟一起坐在我們家門前的樓梯上。
Mum read the letters one by one and translated them from English to Italian. The womans eyes welled up with tears.
母親把信一封接一封地從英文翻成意大利文讀出來。聽完，那女人雙眼噙著淚水說：
Now I have to write to him, she said. But how was she going to do it?
我一定要給他寫回信。 可是她該怎么辦呢?
Make some coffee, Octavia, mum yelled to me in the living room while she took the woman with her into the kitchen and seated her at the table.
奧塔維婭，去沖杯咖啡來。 母親在客廳大聲叫我，然后把那女人領(lǐng)到廚房桌旁坐下，
