U2 A
A child's clutter awaits an adult's return
curtains儿时百宝箱老大归家梦
I watch her back her new truck out of the driveway. The vehicle is too large, too expensive. She'd refused to consider a practical car with good gas efficiency and easy to park. It's because of me, I think. She bought it to show me that she could.
我看着她在车道上倒着她的新卡车。车太大，而且太贵。她就是不愿意考虑买辆开起来省油、停起来省心的实用型汽车。我想，原因在我。她买这辆车就是为了让我看看她的能耐。
"I'm 18," she'd told me so often that my teeth ached. "I am an adult!"
“我 18 岁了，”她经常这样对我说，以至于听得我牙都疼了。“我是成年人了！”
I thought, is that true? Just yesterday you watched some cartoons. What changed betwee
n yesterday and today?
我心想，真的吗？昨天你还在看动画片呢。今天和昨天又能有多大的变化？
Today she's gone, off to be an adult far away from me. I'm glad she's gone. It means she made it, and that I'm finally free of 18 years of responsibilities. And yet I wonder if she could take good care of herself.
今天她走了，远离我去寻求成年人的独立。我很高兴她离开了。这意味着她成功了，而我也终于可以从 18 年的责任中脱身了。但是我还是担心她能不能照顾好自己。
She left a mess. Her bathroom is an embarrassment of damp towels, rusted shaving blades, hair in the sink, and nearly empty tubes of toothpaste. I bring a box of big black garbage bags upstairs. Eye shadow, face cream, nail polish - all go into the trash. I dump drawers, sweep shelves clear and clean the sink. When I am finished, it is as neat and impersonal as a hotel bathroom.
她留下的是一片狼藉。她的卫生间真是凌乱不堪，有没拧干的毛巾，有生锈的剃刀片，散
落在面盆里的头发，还有几支快挤空了的牙膏。我拿了一盒大号的黑垃圾袋上了楼。眼影、面霜、指甲油——这些统统扔进垃圾袋。我把抽屉清空，把架子打扫干净，还把面盆擦洗干净。我打扫完后，卫生间就像酒店里的那样井井有条，丝毫没有人情味儿。
In her bedroom I find mismatched socks under her bed and purple pants on the closet floor. Desk drawers are filled with school papers, filed by year and subject.
在她的卧室里，我发现床下有不配对的袜子，壁橱底板上扔着紫的裤子。书桌的抽屉里满是学校的卷子，按照年份和科目归了类。
I catch myself reading through poems and essays, admiring high scores on tests and reading her name, printed or typed neatly in the upper right-hand corner of each paper. I pack the desk contents into a box. Six months, I think. I will give her six months to collect her belongings, and then I will throw them all away. That is fair. Grown-ups pay for storage.
我发现自己竟然在翻看她的诗歌和作文，欣赏着考卷上的高分，端详着每张考卷右上角她
用印刷体工工整整书写的或是打印的她的名字。我把书桌里的东西收拾到一个盒子里。六个月，我心想。如果过了六个月她还不来拿她的东西，我就会把它们一股脑儿全扔了。这算讲道理了吧。成年人存放东西是要付费的。
I have to pause at the books. Comic books, teen fiction, romantic novels, historical novels, and textbooks. A lifetime of reading; each book beloved. I want to be practical, to stuff them in paper sacks for the used bookstore. But I love books as much as she does, so I stack them onto a single bookshelf to deal with later.
轮到整理书的时候，我有些犹豫了。连环漫画册、青少年小说、言情小说、历史小说，还有课本。阅读是一辈子的事；每本书都是心爱之物。原本我想现实一点，把这些书塞进纸袋，然后送到旧书店。但是我跟女儿一样爱书如命，于是我把她的这些书归置到一个单独的书架上，等日后再作处理。
I go for her clothes. Dresses, sweaters, and shoes she hasn't worn since seventh grade are placed into garbage bags. I am a plague of locusts emptying the closet. Two piles grow to clumsy heights: one for charity, the other trash.
接下来，我着手整理她的衣服。那些她从七年级起就不再穿的裙子、毛衣和鞋子都被装进了垃圾袋。就像蝗虫洗劫一样，我清空了壁橱。理出高高的、乱蓬蓬的两大堆东西：一堆捐给慈善机构，另一堆扔掉。
There are more shoes, stuffed animals, large and small posters, hair bands, and pink hair curlers. The job grows larger the longer I am at it. How can one girl collect so much in only 18 years?
可是还有更多的鞋子、填充动物玩具、大大小小的招贴画、发箍和粉红的卷发夹。我越理，要理的东西就越多。一个小姑娘怎么能在短短的 18 年里收集了这么多东西？
I stuff the garbage bags until the plastic strains. I haul them down the stairs, two bags at a time. Donations to charity go into the trunk of my car; trash goes to the curb. I'm earning myself sweat and sore shoulders.
我把东西往垃圾袋里塞，直到塑料袋快要被撑破了。我把垃圾袋拽下楼梯，一次拽两个。要捐给慈善机构的都放在我汽车的后备箱里；要扔掉的都放在路边。我弄得浑身是汗，肩膀酸痛。
She left the bedroom a ridiculous mess, the comforter on the floor, the sheets tossed aside. I strip off the comforter, blanket, sheets, and pillows. Once she starts feeding coins into laundry machines, she'll appreciate the years of clean clothes I've provided for free.
她把卧室弄得乱到匪夷所思的地步，盖被掉在地板上，床单掀到一边。我把床罩、毯子、床单和枕套都拆了下来。等到她开始投币洗衣的那一天，她就会感激我这些年来为她无偿提供的干净衣服了。
I will turn her room into a crafts room. Or create the fancy guest room I've always wanted.
我打算把她的房间改作手工室，或者改成一间我一直想要的漂亮客房。
I turn the bed over. A large brown envelope is marked "DO NOT THROW AWAY". I open it. More papers. I dump the contents onto the floor. There are old family photographs, letters, greeting cards, and love notes from us to her. There are comics clipped from newspapers and magazines. Every single item in this envelope has passed from our hands to hers. These are all things that we gave her. Suddenly, I feel very emotional.

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