my son brendan cried his first day of school. even mrs. phillips, a kind, soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind, could not coax him to a seat. his eyes streamed, his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a strawberry. i plucked him off and escaped.
it wasn"t that brendan didn"t like school. he just didn"t like being apart from me. we"d had some good times, he and i, in those preschool years. we played at the pool. we skated on quiet morning ice. we sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighborhood coffee parties. now in grade 1, brendan was faced with five hours of wondering what i was doing with my day.
brendan always came home for lunch, the only one of his class not to eat at his desk. but once home, fed and hugged, a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow—he wanted to go back to school to play! so i walked him back, waited with him until he spotted someone he knew, then left. he told me once that he watched me until he couldn"t see me anymore, so i always walked fast and never looked back.
one day when i took brendan back after lunch, he spied a friend, kissed me goodbye, and scampered right off. i went, feeling pleased for him, celebrating his new independence, his entry into the first-grade social loop. then—i didn"t know why—i glanced back. and there he was. the playground buzzed all around him, kids everywhere, and he stood, his chin tucked close, his body held small, his face intent but not sad, blowing me kisses. so brave, so unashamed, so completely loving, brendan was watching me go.
no book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick, raw glimpse into my child"s soul. my mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog grown old and him saying, "dry up, mom. it"s not like i"m leaving the country." in my mind i tore up the card every mother signs saying she"ll let her child go when he"s ready. i looked at my brendan, his shirt tucked in, every button done up, his toes just turned in a bit, and i thought, "ok, you"re six for me forever." with a smile i had to really dig for, i blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.
"純潔的愛"英語作文譯文：
我兒子布蘭登第一天上學哭了，甚至連那位在六歲兒童心目中和藹可親、聲音柔和的菲利普斯老師也不能把他勸誘到座位上去。他淚流滿面，鼻子抽搭著，緊緊抓住我，就象蝸牛附著在草莓上一樣。我猛力地把他扯開，逃走了。
倒不是布蘭登不喜歡上學，他隻是不想和我分開。我們，他與我，在他上學之前有過一些快樂時光。我們在遊泳池嬉戲，在安靜的早晨滑冰，我們也曾把街坊舉辦的每周一次的咖啡派對上饋贈盤中的食物吃掉了一半。而現在上一年級了，布蘭登每天有五小時要琢磨我在幹什麽。
布蘭登總是回家吃午飯，他是班上唯一不再教室裏吃午飯的學生。可是一旦到了家，吃飽了，也擁抱過我了，他的眉毛就會輕輕地皺起來，臉上露出向往的神色--他想回學校去玩!于是我就走著送他回去，等他看到了認識的人再離開。有一次他告訴我，他會一直目送我，直到看不見為止，于是我便總是走得很快，從不回頭。
有一天午飯後，我巴布蘭登送回去時，他看到了一個朋友，就跟我吻別，蹦蹦跳跳地跑開了。我為他感到高興，為他獲得新的獨立而慶祝，慶祝他從此進入了一年級社交圈。但是，我也不知為什麽，離開時回頭望了一眼。他就在那兒，操場上到處是孩子，在他周圍嘰嘰喳喳，可他就站在那兒向我飛吻，下巴揚起，身體縮得小小的，臉上的表情很堅決但並不悲傷。布蘭登勇敢地目送我離開，毫不害羞，充滿了萬分愛意。
突如其來地瞥見了兒子毫無遮掩的靈魂深處，我毫無準備，也從來沒有哪本育兒書教過我。我的思緒跳到了十五年後，兒子打好行囊，他的小狗也老了，那時他說：“媽，把眼淚擦擦，我又不是出國。”所有的母親手裏都有一張牌，寫著：隻要孩子準備好離開，就由他去。在我的腦海中，我把這張牌撕掉了。我看著我的布蘭登，他的襯衫塞在褲子裏，紐扣都扣得整整齊齊，兩腳還有點內八字，于是就想：“嗯對你我來說永遠是六歲。”我拼命地擠出了一絲微笑，給他一個飛吻，轉身走開了。