Snow

  I knew it was snowing before I opened my eyes. I could hear the sounds of shovels scraping against the sidewalks, and there was that special quiet in the air that comes when the city is heavily blanketed with snow. I ran to the windows in the front room to have a look at the block—my domain.  It must have been very early. None of my friends had made it to the street; only janitors were moving about in the knee-deep now. Relieved that I hadn’t missed anything, I became aware that my sisters and brothers were now awake. I had no time to waste. If I hurried, I could be out there before any of my friends.

  I dressed myself in an assortment of hand -me-down¹ winter woolens, but there would be no mittens² to keep my hands warm. I had lost them earlier in the season. I was in a real dither as to what to put on my feet; my shoes no longer fit into my rubber galoshes. I could wear shoes or galoshes, but not both. I decided to go with two pairs of socks and the galoshes.

  As I was buckling them, I felt the presence of someone standing over me. It was my big brother, Lenny. He asked me if I wanted to go ice-skating at the indoor rink in Madison Square Garden. I immediately scrapped my other plans. My thirteen-year-old brother was actually asking me, his nine-year-old sister, to go ice-skating with him. Go? Of course I would go. But where would we get the money? Lenny said it would cost a dollar to get in and rent the skates. Only two obstacles stood between me and going skating with my brother—the blizzard³ of 1984 and one dollar. The blizzard I could handle—it was the dollar that presented the problem.

  The quest began. We returned some milk bottles, asked our mother for a nickel, begged our father for a quarter apiece, collected a penny or two from coat pockets, discovered two coins that had rolled under the beds, and spotted a rare stray dime nestled in a corner of one of the six rooms in our cold-water railroad flat.

  Eventually, fortified with a bowl of hot oatmeal and jamming the hard-earned coin into our pockets, we set out on the twenty-block journey—a city mile.

  The wind-driven snow clung to every surface. Lenny and I pretended that we were in the Alps as we climbed over the three-foot mounds of snow that had been shoveled to the curbs. It was our world now—a myriad⁴ of tiny snowflakes had shut down the city and kept the adults indoors. The skyscrapers were invisible behind a white veil of snow, and we could almost imagine that New York had been scaled down for us. We could walk right down the middle of Third Avenue with no fear of being run over. It was hard to contain our joy, the incredible sense of freedom we felt out there in the snow.

  The twelve blocks to Forty-nine Street weren’t difficult, but the long cross town street proved to be chilling. The harsh west winds blowing off the Hudson River made it almost impossible to push forward. I could no longer keep up with my brother. My playful imaginings were replaced by the gnawing cold of my feet. My head was uncovered, my mittenless hands were clenched in my pockets, and a few of the clasps on my galoshes had worked loose. I began to complain gently, not wanting to make a nuisance⁵ of myself because I was afraid that Lenny wouldn’t ask me to go anywhere with him again.

  Somewhere near Fifth Avenue, we stopped in a doorway to take refuge. I timidly told Lenny that my clasps were open. Lenny took his bare red hands out of his pockets and bent down to refasten the snow-crusted, icy metal clasps. Ashamed that Lenny had to take care of me, I stared straight ahead and saw the image of a man walking toward us through the chiffon curtain of snow.

  I was unable to tell how old he was—all adults seemed the same age to me—but he was tall, thin, and had a gentle, handsome face. He wore no hat. There was a scarf around his neck, and his overcoat, like ours, was caked with snow.

  I don’t remember if he spoke to me or not. What I do recall is that he kneeled down before me, his face level with mine. I found myself gazing into soft brown eyes, feeling bewildered and mute. When he was gone, I felt his warmth in the soft wine-colored scarf that he wrapped tightly around my head.

  I don’t remember ice-skating that day, or how we got home. All my memory holds is the snow, the kindness of a stranger, and my big brother, Lenny.

   雪

睁开眼之前，我就知道下雪了。我能听见铁锹在人行道貌岸然上刮出的声音。当城市被厚厚的积雪覆盖时，空气中有一中特殊的静谧。我跑到前屋的窗前，看一了眼整个街区——这是我的领域。天一定还很早，我的朋友还没有上街；只有看门人行走在齐膝深的雪地里。看来我还没有错过什么，我很欣慰。我意识到我的哥哥和姐姐们现在已经醒来，我没有时间可以浪费了。如果抓紧点的话，我能赶在任何朋友之前出去玩。

我穿上几件各种各样姐姐原来穿过的毛衣裤，但却没有手套来给手保暧，初冬的时候，我把它们弄丢了。至于穿什么鞋，我实在很犹豫。我的鞋子已经无法再穿进橡胶套鞋了。我可以只穿普通鞋子，也可以只穿套鞋，但不能两个同时穿。最后我决定穿两双袜子和雨靴。

在扣套鞋的的鞋扣时，我感到有人站在我面前。是大哥莱尼，他问我去不去麦迪逊广场公园的室内溜冰场溜冰。我立刻放弃了我的其他计划。我十三岁的哥哥其实是在请我——他九岁的妹妹——和他一起去溜冰。去吗？我当然要去。但是我们从哪儿弄到钱呢？莱尼说进去再加上租冰鞋要花一美元。我随哥哥一起去滑冰只面临两个障碍；一九四八年的暴风雪和一美元。暴风雪我可以应付——麻烦的是那一美元。

筹钱行动开始了。我们将一些奶瓶退了些钱，向妈妈要了五分钱，每人向爸爸讨来二角五分，从上衣口袋里找到一两分，在床底下找到滚落的两个硬币，在某个房间的角落里稀奇地发现丢失的一角硬币。我们靠近铁路的公寓没有暧气设备，共有六个房间。

最后，我们喝了碗热气腾腾的燕麦粥以增强体力，并将来之不易的硬币揣入口袋，然后就开始了我们穿越二十个街区的行程——大约有一英里。

雪花在风匠吹送下粘得到处都是。在爬过一个被铲到路边有三英尺高的雪堆时，莱尼和我假装是在攀登阿尔卑斯山。现在这是我们的世界——铺天盖地的雪花笼罩了整个城市，让大人们都呆在家里。摩天大楼消失在雪片构成的白纱后面，我们几乎可以想像，纽约因为我们而缩小了。我们可以走在第三大道的中间，而不用担心被撞倒。我们无法抑制心中的喜悦，在雪中感受着难以置信的自由。

到第四十九大街的十二个街区并不难走，但走在那些穿越城区的街道上非常寒冷。刺骨的西风从哈得孙河吹来，让人几乎寸步难行。我跟不上我哥哥了。我对于玩耍的向往被脚下钻心的寒冷替代了。我头上什么也没戴，没戴手套的双手紧握在口袋里，套鞋上的几个扣子也松开了。我开始轻声抱怨，但不想让自己惹人讨厌，因为我怕莱尼以后不带我出来了。

我靠近第五大街的一个地方，我们在一家门口停下来避一会儿。我战战兢兢地告诉莱尼我的鞋扣开了。他将冻得通红的手从口袋里拿出来，弯下腰，将冰雪覆盖的金属扣又重新扣上。必须让莱尼来照顾我，让我感到很不好意思，于是我向前方看去，看见一个男人的身影在细纱般的雪帘中朝我们这个方向走来。

我说不上来他有多大年纪——对我来说，大人都是一个年纪——但是他又高又瘦，长着一张温和英俊的脸。他没戴帽子，脖子上围着一条围巾，他的大衣和我们的一样，满是雪花。

我不记得他有没有跟我说话。我只记得他在我面前蹲下来，他的脸正对着我的脸。不知不觉中我盯着他那双柔和的褐色眼睛，有些茫然，不知该说什么。他将他那条质地柔软的深红色围巾紧紧地裹在我的头上。当他离去时，我还能感受到他的温暖。

我不记得那天溜冰的情况，也记不清我们怎样回的家。我的记忆中只有大雪、那个善良的陌生人和大哥莱尼。

Notes:

1. hand -me-down adj. 旧的，穿剩下的

2. mittens n. 手套

3. blizzard n. 大风雪，暴风雪

4. myriad n. 极大数量

5. nuisance n. 讨厌的事物、人、行为等