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It was Christmas 1961. I was teaching in a small town in Ohio where my twenty-seven third graders eagerly anticipated the great day of gifts giving.

那是1961年的圣誕節。我在俄亥俄州的一個小鎮上教小學三年級。班上27個孩子都在積極參加"禮物贈送日"的活動。

A tree covered with tinsel and gaudy paper chains graced one corner. In another rested a manger scene produced from cardboard and poster paints by chubby, and sometimes grubby, hands. Someone had brought a doll and placed it on the straw in the cardboard box that served as the manger. It didn't matter that you could pull a string and hear the blue-eyed, golden-haired dolly say, "My name is Susie." "But Jesus was a boy baby!" one of the boys proclaimed. Nonetheless, Susie stayed.

教室的一角被一棵樹裝點得熠熠生輝，樹上綴滿了金銀絲帛和華麗的彩紙。教室的另一角是一個涂著海報油彩由紙板制成的馬槽，這出自孩子們那胖乎乎、臟兮兮的小手。有人帶來了一個娃娃，把它放在紙板槽里的稻草上(假裝小耶穌)。只要拉拉它身上的一條細繩，這個藍眼睛、金發的娃娃就會說道，"我叫蘇西"，不過這都沒有關系。一個男孩提出："耶穌可是個小男孩呀!"不過蘇西還是留了下來。

　Each day the children produced some new wonder -- strings of popcorn, hand-made trinkets, and German bells made from wallpaper samples, which we hung from the ceiling. Through it all she remained aloof, watching from afar, seemingly miles away. I wondered what would happen to this quiet child, once so happy, now so suddenly withdrawn. I hoped the festivities would appeal to her. But nothing did. We made cards and gifts for mothers and dads, for sisters and brothers, for grandparents, and for each other. At home the students made the popular fried marbles and vied with one another to bring in the prettiest ones. " You put them in a hot frying pan, Teacher. And you let them get real hot, and then you watch what happens inside. But you don't fry them too long or they break."So, as my gift to them, I made each of my students a little pouch for carrying their fried marbles. And I knew they had each made something for me: bookmarks carefully cut, colored, and sometimes pasted together; cards and special drawings; liquid embroidery doilies, hand-fringed, of course.

每天孩子們都會做點兒新玩意--爆米花串成的細鏈子、手工做的小裝飾品和墻紙樣做的德國式風鈴，我們把這些風鈴掛在了天花板上。但自始至終，她都是孤零零地遠遠觀望，仿佛是隔了一道幾里長的障礙。我猜想著這個沉默的孩子發生了什么事，原來那個快樂的孩子怎么突然變得沉默寡言起來。我希望節日的活動能吸引她，可還是無濟于事。我們制作了許多卡片和禮物，準備把它們送給爸爸媽媽、兄弟姐妹、祖父母和身邊的同學。學生們在家里做了當時很流行“油炸"玻璃彈子，并且相互比著，要把最好看的拿來。"老師，把玻璃彈子放在熱油鍋里，讓它們燒熱，然后看看里面的變化。但不要炸得時間過長否則會破裂。"所以，我給每個學生做了一個裝"油炸彈子"的小袋作為禮物送給他們。我知道他們每個人也都為我做了禮物：仔細剪裁、著色，或已粘集成串的書簽；賀卡和特別繪制的圖片；透明的鑲邊碗碟墊布，當然是手工編制的流蘇。

The day of gift-giving finally came. We oohed and aahed over our handiwork as the presents were exchanged. Through it all, she sat quietly watching. I had made a special pouch for her, red and green with white lace. I wanted very much to see her smile. She opened the package so slowly and carefully. I waited but she turned away. I had not penetrated the wall of isolation she had built around herself.

贈送禮物的那天終于到了。在交換禮物時我們為對方親手做的小禮品不停地歡呼叫好。而整個過程，她只是安靜地坐在那兒看著。我為她做的小袋很特別，紅綠相間還鑲著白邊。我非常想看到她笑一笑。她打開包裝，動作又慢又小心。我等待著，但是她卻轉過了身。我還是沒能穿過她在自己周圍樹起的高墻，這堵墻將她與大家隔離了開來。

　After school the children left in little groups, chattering about the great day yet to come when long-hoped-for two-wheelers and bright sleds would appear beside their trees at home. She lingered, watching them bundle up and go out the door. I sat down in a child-sized chair to catch my breath, hardly aware of what was happening, when she came to me with outstretched hands, bearing a small white box, unwrapped and slightly soiled, as though it had been held many times by unwashed, childish hands. She said nothing. "For me?" I asked with a weak smile. She said not a word, but nodded her head. I took the box and gingerly opened it. There inside, glistening green, a fried marble hung from a golden chain. Then I looked into that elderly eight-year-old face and saw the question in her dark brown eyes. In a flash I knew -- she had made it for her mother, a mother she would never see again, a mother who would never hold her or brush her hair or share a funny story, a mother who would never again hear her childish joys or sorrows. A mother who had taken her own life just three weeks before.

放學后，學生們三三倆倆地離開了，邊走邊說著即將到來的圣誕節：家中的圣誕樹旁將發現自己心系已久的自行車和嶄新發亮的雪橇。她慢慢地走在后面，看著大家擁擠著走出門外。我坐在孩子們的小椅子上稍稍松了口氣，對要發生的事沒有一點準備。這時她向我走來，雙手拿著一個白色的盒子向我伸過來。盒子沒有打包裝，稍有些臟。好像是被孩子未洗過的小手摸過了好多遍。她沒有說話。"給我的嗎?"我微微一笑。她沒出聲，只是點點頭。我接過盒子，非常小心地打開它。盒子里面有一條金色的鏈子，上面墜著一塊閃閃發光的“油炸"玻璃彈子。然后我看著她的臉，雖只有8歲，可卻是成人的表情。在她深棕色的眼睛里我找到了問題的答案。我在一瞬間明白過來--這是她為媽媽做的項鏈，她再也見不到的媽媽，再也不能抱她、給她梳頭或一起講故事的媽媽。她的媽媽已再也不能分享她充滿童稚的快樂，分擔她孩子氣的憂傷。就在3個星期前她的媽媽離開了人世。

　I held out the chain. She took it in both her hands, reached forward, and secured the simple clasp at the back of my neck. She stepped back then as if to see that all was well. I looked down at the shiny piece of glass and the tarnished golden chain, then back at the giver. I meant it when I whispered," Oh, Maria, it is so beautiful. She would have loved it."Neither of us could stop the tears. She stumbled into my arms and we wept together. And for that brief moment I became her mother, for she had given me the greatest gift of all: herself.

我拿起那條鏈子。她用雙手接過它，向前探了探身，在我的脖子后把簡易的項鏈鉤系好。然后她向后退了幾步，好像在看看是否合適。我低下頭看著閃閃發亮的玻璃珠和已失去光澤的金色鏈子，然后抬起頭望著她。我很認真地輕聲說道：“哦，瑪麗亞，這鏈子真漂亮。你媽媽一定會喜歡的。"我們已無法抑制住淚水。她踉踉蹌蹌地撲進我的懷里，我們都哭了。在那短暫的一刻我成了她的媽媽，而她送給了我一份最珍貴的禮物：她的信任和愛。

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