朋友們告訴我：“孩子們長得太快了!”18年后，我終于體會到了其中的含義……

It’s nearly the end of summer break and my son goes out with friends. Ten minutes after he leaves home, I receive his text: Here. It’s the same message I’ve received hundreds of times before—our agreed-upon shorthand to reassure me, and probably him, in some still-unexamined way, that he has arrived safely at his destination.[1] In a matter of days he’ll head to college, and this routine, along with many others that have framed[2] our days and nights, will come to an end. Reading that text triggers[3] images stored safely away in my memory, a tiny book of our lives together.

My constant companion of nine months emerges with his eyes wide open.[4] He’s placed on my chest. I feel his heartbeat reverberating[5] through mine. All I see are beginnings. Friends who visit caution that time is elusive, that he’ll grow up faster than I can imagine, and to savor every moment.[6] But I can’t hear them; it’s all too clichéd[7] and my child has only just arrived. He’s intoxicating[8]. I’m filled with a renewed sense of purpose, of hope, of love. The first few months after he’s born are topsy-turvy[9]—day is night, night is day. When sleep finally returns, so does work. My business suit is tight, my mind preoccupied[10]. I pump milk in a cold, gray bathroom stall.[11]

His teeth begin to appear. Baby bottles give way to solid foods. He points high above his chair to the clock on the wall. “Clock,” he says. It’s his first word, minus the “l,” and it makes me laugh. Soon he is walking, skipping, making angels in the snow. I’m promoted at work. It becomes harder to find the time to make playdates and pediatrician appointments.[12] At lunch I read books about nurturing, teaching, inspiring your child. He calls my office with the help of his baby-sitter. “Momma,” he says, “I’m making you a present.”

The tooth fairy[13] arrives and leaves him handwritten notes. He learns how to add, subtract[14], and read. He rides his shiny bike down a country road with his feet off the pedals.[15]

I quit my job to do freelance[16] writing—everything from training programs to marketing brochures to essays—usually when the rest of the family is sleeping. There’s never enough—money, but now at least we have time.

Saturday nights are always family nights, spent at home. There are countless sporting events. He tries baseball, soccer, and falls for basketball. He wears superhero costumes[17], develops crushes, friendships, and fevers.

We get a dog. He loves this dog with all his heart. The dog loves him back.

One day his height surpasses[18] mine and, seemingly the next, his father’s.

He reads an essay by a sportswriter[19]. It lights a fire in him. He starts to write his own stuff, wandering into my office as I try to juggle[20] freelance assignments.

I feel privileged[21] to read his work.

He learns to do the laundry, scrub the bathroom, and make pasta, though he often professes to forget how to do all three.[22]

He turns 18.

On a cold and rainy Election Day we head out together to vote. After two hours waiting in line, he’s the only teen in sight. It’s not lost on him—by the next morning he has written all about it.

He gets a job as a blogger[23], then starts his own website.

The book’s down to its last pages.

I’ve defined myself as a mother for 18 years. Who am I now? I look in the mirror. In my quest to help him grow wings, I forgot to grow some of my own. Can I find a new sense of purpose, rechannel the love?

Before I was a mother I was a daughter, infused with energy and the unspoken reassurance that my parents would always be there.[24] But I can’t be a daughter again. I’m on my own.

Does purpose—mine, yours, anyone’s—require someone to nurture it, or is it inherent[25] in all of us?

I’ll soon be putting these competing theories to the test.[26]

As I sit down to write this piece, I receive his text: Where are you?

Here, I text back.

Vocabulary

1. agreed-upon: 商定(同意)某事的;shorthand: 簡短而意思隱晦的表達;still-unexamined: 仍然未經核實的;destination: 目的地。

2. frame: 構造。

3. trigger: 引發。

4. companion: 陪伴;emerge: 出現。

5. reverberate: 回響。

6. caution: v. 警告，提醒;elusive: 難以捉摸的;savor: 盡情享受。

7. clichéd: 陳詞濫調的，老套的。

8. intoxicating: 使人興奮的。

9. topsy-turvy: 顛倒的，亂七八糟的。

10. preoccupied: 全完被占據的。

11. 我在又冷又暗的衛生間里擠奶。

12. playdate:(為孩子們安排的)歡聚玩耍的日子;pediatrician: 兒科醫生的。

13. tooth fairy: 牙仙(兒童相信能進入臥室取走他們脫落的牙齒并留下錢的仙人)。

14. subtract: 做減法。

15. shiny: 發光的;pedal:(自行車或其他機器的)踏板。

16. freelance: 做自由職業的。

17. costume: 服裝。

18. surpass: 超過。

19. sportswriter: 體育(資訊)記者。

20. juggle:(尤指吃力地)同時應付(幾份工作、多項活動等)。

21. privileged: 榮幸的。

22. laundry: 洗衣服;scrub: 用力擦洗;pasta:(常伴以乳酪、肉醬的)面食;profess: 表明。

23. blogger: 寫博客的人，博主。

24. infuse with: 充滿(某種感覺);unspoken: 沒有明說的，心照不宣的。

25. inherent: 固有的。

26. 不久，我將檢驗這些相互矛盾的理論。

朋友們告訴我：“孩子們長得太快了!”18年后，我終于體會到了其中的含義……

It’s nearly the end of summer break and my son goes out with friends. Ten minutes after he leaves home, I receive his text: Here. It’s the same message I’ve received hundreds of times before—our agreed-upon shorthand to reassure me, and probably him, in some still-unexamined way, that he has arrived safely at his destination.[1] In a matter of days he’ll head to college, and this routine, along with many others that have framed[2] our days and nights, will come to an end. Reading that text triggers[3] images stored safely away in my memory, a tiny book of our lives together.

My constant companion of nine months emerges with his eyes wide open.[4] He’s placed on my chest. I feel his heartbeat reverberating[5] through mine. All I see are beginnings. Friends who visit caution that time is elusive, that he’ll grow up faster than I can imagine, and to savor every moment.[6] But I can’t hear them; it’s all too clichéd[7] and my child has only just arrived. He’s intoxicating[8]. I’m filled with a renewed sense of purpose, of hope, of love. The first few months after he’s born are topsy-turvy[9]—day is night, night is day. When sleep finally returns, so does work. My business suit is tight, my mind preoccupied[10]. I pump milk in a cold, gray bathroom stall.[11]

His teeth begin to appear. Baby bottles give way to solid foods. He points high above his chair to the clock on the wall. “Clock,” he says. It’s his first word, minus the “l,” and it makes me laugh. Soon he is walking, skipping, making angels in the snow. I’m promoted at work. It becomes harder to find the time to make playdates and pediatrician appointments.[12] At lunch I read books about nurturing, teaching, inspiring your child. He calls my office with the help of his baby-sitter. “Momma,” he says, “I’m making you a present.”

The tooth fairy[13] arrives and leaves him handwritten notes. He learns how to add, subtract[14], and read. He rides his shiny bike down a country road with his feet off the pedals.[15]

I quit my job to do freelance[16] writing—everything from training programs to marketing brochures to essays—usually when the rest of the family is sleeping. There’s never enough—money, but now at least we have time.

Saturday nights are always family nights, spent at home. There are countless sporting events. He tries baseball, soccer, and falls for basketball. He wears superhero costumes[17], develops crushes, friendships, and fevers.

We get a dog. He loves this dog with all his heart. The dog loves him back.

One day his height surpasses[18] mine and, seemingly the next, his father’s.

He reads an essay by a sportswriter[19]. It lights a fire in him. He starts to write his own stuff, wandering into my office as I try to juggle[20] freelance assignments.

I feel privileged[21] to read his work.

He learns to do the laundry, scrub the bathroom, and make pasta, though he often professes to forget how to do all three.[22]

He turns 18.

On a cold and rainy Election Day we head out together to vote. After two hours waiting in line, he’s the only teen in sight. It’s not lost on him—by the next morning he has written all about it.

He gets a job as a blogger[23], then starts his own website.

The book’s down to its last pages.

I’ve defined myself as a mother for 18 years. Who am I now? I look in the mirror. In my quest to help him grow wings, I forgot to grow some of my own. Can I find a new sense of purpose, rechannel the love?

Before I was a mother I was a daughter, infused with energy and the unspoken reassurance that my parents would always be there.[24] But I can’t be a daughter again. I’m on my own.

Does purpose—mine, yours, anyone’s—require someone to nurture it, or is it inherent[25] in all of us?

I’ll soon be putting these competing theories to the test.[26]

As I sit down to write this piece, I receive his text: Where are you?

Here, I text back.

Vocabulary

1. agreed-upon: 商定(同意)某事的;shorthand: 簡短而意思隱晦的表達;still-unexamined: 仍然未經核實的;destination: 目的地。

2. frame: 構造。

3. trigger: 引發。

4. companion: 陪伴;emerge: 出現。

5. reverberate: 回響。

6. caution: v. 警告，提醒;elusive: 難以捉摸的;savor: 盡情享受。

7. clichéd: 陳詞濫調的，老套的。

8. intoxicating: 使人興奮的。

9. topsy-turvy: 顛倒的，亂七八糟的。

10. preoccupied: 全完被占據的。

11. 我在又冷又暗的衛生間里擠奶。

12. playdate:(為孩子們安排的)歡聚玩耍的日子;pediatrician: 兒科醫生的。

13. tooth fairy: 牙仙(兒童相信能進入臥室取走他們脫落的牙齒并留下錢的仙人)。

14. subtract: 做減法。

15. shiny: 發光的;pedal:(自行車或其他機器的)踏板。

16. freelance: 做自由職業的。

17. costume: 服裝。

18. surpass: 超過。

19. sportswriter: 體育(資訊)記者。

20. juggle:(尤指吃力地)同時應付(幾份工作、多項活動等)。

21. privileged: 榮幸的。

22. laundry: 洗衣服;scrub: 用力擦洗;pasta:(常伴以乳酪、肉醬的)面食;profess: 表明。

23. blogger: 寫博客的人，博主。

24. infuse with: 充滿(某種感覺);unspoken: 沒有明說的，心照不宣的。

25. inherent: 固有的。

26. 不久，我將檢驗這些相互矛盾的理論。