羅傑·迪安·凱澤/Roger Dean Kiser
When the school bell rang, I headed out the back door and down Spring Park Road.It was not easy for a ten-year-old, runaway boy to walk the streets of Jacksonville, Florida.I traveled for what seemed to be miles before I crossed over the Main Street Bridge.I walked, as fast as I could, through the downtown area hunting for something to eat.
I made my way down to Bay Street and stopped and stood in the doorway of the bus station.I watched as the dirty looking bums drank from their brown paper bags and argued with one another.
“Sonny! Can you go into that store across the street and cash in these here glass bottles for me? I’ll buy you a candy,”said the old woman.
“Sure.I can do that for you for nothing,”I told her.
I loaded the bottles into the store a few at a time.Her large wooden type wagon cart was filled to the top with all varieties of soda bottles.
I cashed in the bottles and I walked back out of the store to give her the money.
“Can you count the money out for me, Sonny?”she asked me.
“Can’t you count?”I questioned.
“It’s not that, Sonny.I just can’t see very well,”she told me.
As I stood there counting out the money in her hand, two large boys walked up and began pulling on her coattail.One of the boys was trying to grab the money from our hands while the other boy pulled her backwards.I immediately closed my hands and I fell to the ground trying to catch the coins which had fallen.
“OUCH!”I yelled out as one of the boys stomped on my hand, pinning it to the ground.
“Boy, you sure stink lady,”said one of the boys.
“You boys go on now.Leave us alone!”she yelled out at the two.
“Shut up you retarded old bag!”yelled the young man as he started across the street with his friend.
I got back down on my knees and I picked up what money had been left on the ground.Again, I recounted the money and I placed it in her hands.
“You sure counts awful good for being little like you are.And you can count fast too.”she said, as she laughed.
“Are you retarded too, like me?”I asked the old woman.
“You ain’t retarded boy.You as smart as a whip.Look how fast you can count.And you’re real cute too.”she replied.
“You really think so?”I said, with a big smile on my face, and my eyes open wide.
For the remainder of the day, I walked around and talked with the old woman.I stayed as close to her as possible, all the while hoping that she would once again say something nice about me.
Throughout the years, I have often thought about that old woman, especially when I drive through a large city and see someone pushing a shopping cart down the street.
I could count on one hand the times that any grown adult ever gave me a compliment or made me feel proud of myself.The few times that it did happen, I soaked up the experience like a sponge soaking up water.
I can remember exactly what she looked like and exactly how she smelled.I can remember her legs being fat at the ankles and the many veins in her legs were dark and broken.Her lips were rough and cracked and her hands were scarred and she had many sores about her hands and wrists.
But what I remember most about her was her kind smile.
Not the kind of look that one has when they actually smile—it was a look that she must have been born with—a constant smile which stayed on her face even when she was resting on the bus stop bench.I remember we parted company late in the afternoon on the day we met.I stood for a while, watching her as she disappeared into the evening.
I never saw her again after that.
But that was okay with me.
Even if it was only for a moment, she gave me what I needed from a“mother”—the thought that I might not be retarded, that I was handsome, and best of all, that I was“smart as a whip.”
Those few words turned into feelings and they followed me for the next 50 years of my life.
This year, the Mother’s Day flowers are for you.Wherever you are.
下課鈴一響，我就衝出後門，沿著斯普林公園路而下。對於一個十歲的逃學孩子而言，走在佛羅裏達傑克遜維爾的大街上並不是件悠閑的事。我走了漫長的一段路，才穿過緬街橋。我盡量加快腳步，準備穿過市區去找些東西吃。
走到海灣路，我停下來站在公共汽車站門口。我看到髒兮兮的流浪漢喝著牛皮紙袋裏的東西，並互相吵鬧著。
“小家夥！你能到對麵的店裏幫我把瓶子換成錢嗎？我會給你買糖吃。”一位老婦人說。
“好的，不過我什麽都不要。”我對她說。我每次隻能拿一點瓶子到商店。因為她那木製的大手正推著堆滿了各種各樣汽水瓶的車子。
我進商店把瓶子換成現金，然後出來交給她。
“小家夥，你能幫我數數這些錢嗎？”她問我。
“您不會數嗎？”我問。
她告訴我：“不是的，小家夥。我的眼神不太好。”
正當我站在那裏數她手裏的錢時，兩個大男孩走過來並拉她的衣角。其中一個男孩往後拽她，而另一個要搶錢。我立刻握緊手中的錢。而當我試圖抓住掉下的硬幣時，一下子摔倒在地。
一個男孩一腳將我的手踩在地上，我不禁痛得大叫起來：“哎喲！”
“臭小子，臭老太婆！”一個男孩說。
“你們又胡鬧，快滾開！”她向那兩個男孩大喊道。
他們準備過馬路時，其中一個嚷道：“閉嘴！你這個弱智遲鈍的老家夥！”
我這才跪下來撿起掉在地上的錢，又數了一遍，交給了老太太。
她笑著說：“你年紀這麽小，就數得這麽好、這麽快。”
“您像我一樣反應遲鈍嗎？”我問她。
“孩子，你一點兒也不遲鈍，你很聰明。看你數得多快啊。而且你真得很可愛。”她回答說。
“您真得這麽覺得嗎？”我說著，睜大了眼睛，燦爛地笑了。
我和老太太邊走邊聊，度過了那天餘下的時光。我盡可能靠近她，期待著她能再說一些稱讚我的話。
許多年過去了，我仍會常常想起那位老婦人，特別是當我開車穿過大城市，看到街邊有人推著購物小車時。
大人們稱讚或讓我有自豪感的時候少之又少。我用一隻手就可以數完，當出現這種罕有的時刻時，我總會盡情享受那份愉悅，就像一塊海綿盡情吸飽水一樣。
我依然清楚地記得老婦人的長相和她身上的味道，還記得她那粗胖的腳踝，以及腿上曲張的深色血管。她的嘴唇粗糙幹裂，滿手疤痕，雙手及手腕也有多處傷口。
但我對她記憶最深的還是她那和藹的微笑。
但那並不是一個人微笑時才會有的表情，而是與生俱來的，她時刻麵帶笑容，甚至是在公共汽車站的長凳上休息時都保持著這種表情。那天黃昏分別時的情景，我依然記憶猶新。我站了許久，望著她消失在夜色中。
從此，我再未見過她。
但我並沒有感到失落。
盡管那段時光很短暫，但她給予我的卻是母親般的關懷，讓我知道我並不愚鈍，而且長得帥氣，最重要的是，我也是個聰明的孩子。
這簡短的幾句話已經轉變為我對自己的看法，並在之後的50年間一直縈繞著我。
無論您身在何處，今年的母親節，我都要將一束鮮花獻給您。
few, a few, little, a little
意思都表示“少”，區別如下：
few，a few修飾可數的名詞，little，a little修飾不可數的名詞。
a few，a little含肯定意味，few，little含否定意味。
例：1.He have few friend.
他沒有什麽朋友。
2.He made a few slips.
他有些小錯。
3.They require little special skill care.
它們很少需要特殊照顧。
4.You can have a little rest now.
你現在可以稍微休息一下。
1.I traveled for what seemed to be__________before I crossed over the Main Street Bridge.I walked,__________I could, through the downtown area hunting for something to eat.
2.I could count on one hand the times that any__________ever gave me a compliment or made me feel__________of myself.The few times that it did happen, I soaked up the experience like a__________soaking up water.