佚名/Anonymous
In 1945, a 12-year-old boy saw something in a shop window that set his heart racing. But the price—five dollars—was far beyond Reuben Earle's means. Five dollars would buy almost a week's groceries for his family.
Reuben couldn't ask his father for the money. Everything Mark Earle made was through fishing in Bay Roberts, Newfoundland, Canada. Reuben's mother, Dora, stretched like elastic to feed and clothe their five children.
Nevertheless, he opened the shop's weathered door and went inside. Standing proud and straight in his flour-sack shirt and washed-out trousers, he told the shopkeeper what he wanted, adding,“But I don't have the money right now. Can you please hold it for me for some time?”
“I'll try,”the shopkeeper smiled.“Folks around here don't usually have that kind of money to spend on things. It should keep for a while.”
Reuben respectfully touched his worn cap and walked out into the sunlight with the bay rippling in a freshening wind. There was a purpose in his loping stride. He would raise the five dollars and not tell anybody.
Hearing the sound of hammering from a side street, Reuben had an idea.
He ran towards the sound and stopped at a construction site. People built their own homes in Bay Roberts, using nails purchased in hessian sacks from a local factory. Sometimes the sacks were discarded in the flurry of building, and Reuben knew he could sell them back to the factory for five cents a piece.
That day he found two sacks, which he took to the rambling wooden factory and sold to the man in charge of packing nails.
The boy's hand tightly clutched the five-cent pieces as he ran the two kilometers home.
Near his house stood the ancient barn that housed the family's goats and chickens. Reuben found a rusty soda tin and dropped his coins inside. Then he climbed into the loft of the barn and hid the tin beneath a pile of sweet smelling hay.
It was dinnertime when Reuben got home. His father sat at the big kitchen table, working on a fishing net. Dora was at the kitchen stove, ready to serve dinner as Reuben took his place at the table.
He looked at his mother and smiled. Sunlight from the window gilded her shoulder-length blonde hair. Slim and beautiful, she was the center of the home, the glue that held it together.
Her chores were never-ending. Sewing clothes for her family on the old Singer treadle machine, cooking meals and baking bread, planting and tending a vegetable garden, milking the goats and scrubbing soiled clothes on a washboard. But she was happy. Her family and their well-being were her highest priority.
Every day after chores and school, Reuben scoured the town, collecting the hessian nail bags. On the day the two-room school closed for the summer, no student was more delighted than Reuben. Now he would have more time for his mission.
All summer long, despite chores at home weeding and watering the garden, cutting wood and fetching water—Reuben kept to his secret task.
Then all too soon the garden was harvested, the vegetables canned and stored, and the school reopened. Soon the leaves fell and the winds blew cold and gusty from the bay. Reuben wandered the streets, diligently searching for his hessian treasures.
Often he was cold, tired and hungry, but the thought of the object in the shop window sustained him. Sometimes his mother would ask:“Reuben, where were you? We were waiting for you to have dinner.”
“Playing, Mum. Sorry.”
Dora would look at his face and shake her head. Boys.
Finally spring burst into glorious green and Reuben's spirits erupted. The time had come! He ran into the barn, climbed to the hayloft and uncovered the tin can. He poured the coins out and began to count.
Then he counted again. He needed 20 cents more. Could there be any sacks left any where in town? He had to find four and sell them before the day ended.
Reuben ran down Water Street.
The shadows were lengthening when Reuben arrived at the factory. The sack buyer was about to lock up.
“Mister! Please don't close up yet.”
The man turned and saw Reuben, dirty and sweat stained.
“Come back tomorrow, boy.”
“Please, Mister. I have to sell the sacks now—please.”The man heard a tremor in Reuben's voice and could tell he was close to tears.
“Why do you need this money so badly?”
“It's a secret.”
The man took the sacks, reached into his pocket and put four coins in Reuben's hand. Reuben murmured a thank you and ran home.
Then, clutching the tin can, he headed for the shop.
“I have the money,”he solemnly told the owner.
The man went to the window and retrieved Reuben's treasure.
He wiped the dust off and gently wrapped it in brown paper. Then he placed the parcel in Reuben's hands.
Racing home, Reuben burst through the front door. His mother was scrubbing the kitchen stove.“Here, Mum! Here!”Reuben exclaimed as he ran to her side. He placed a small box in her work roughened hand.
She unwrapped it carefully, to save the paper. A blue-velvet jewel box appeared. Dora lifted the lid, tears beginning to blur her vision.
In gold lettering on a small, almond-shaped brooch was the word Mother.
It was Mother's Day, 1946.
Dora had never received such a gift; she had no finery except her wedding ring. Speechless, she smiled radiantly and gathered her son into her arms.
1945年，12岁的鲁本·厄尔在一家商店橱窗里看到一件令他怦然心动的东西，但是——5美元——鲁本的口袋里可没这么多钱，5美元足够他们家买一周的伙食了。
鲁本又无法张口向父亲要钱，他的父亲马克·厄尔仅靠在加拿大纽芬兰的罗伯茨湾捕鱼的那点儿微薄收入来维持家人的生计。他的母亲多拉，为了保证五个孩子的温饱，勤俭节约，恨不得将一个钱掰成两半花。
尽管如此，鲁本还是推开商店那扇破旧不堪的门，走了进去。他笔直地站在那儿，身穿面粉袋改做的衬衫和洗得褪了色的裤子，并不觉得困窘。他告诉了店主他想要的东西，又补充说道：“但是我现在还没钱买它，您帮我预留一段时间好吗？”
“我尽量吧，”店主笑道，“这儿的人一般都没有太多钱来买这种东西，一时半会儿还卖不出去。”
鲁本礼貌地碰了一下他的旧帽檐儿，然后径自走出店门。阳光下的罗伯茨湾海水在清新的微风吹拂下，泛着阵阵涟漪。鲁本迈开大步，走得很坚定，他一定要自己凑齐那5美元，不告诉任何人。
远处街边传来了铁锤声，鲁本有了主意。
他循着声音跑过去，来到了一处建筑工地。罗伯茨湾的人喜欢自己建房，用的钉子是从当地一家工厂买的，都用麻袋来装。有时人们实在太忙，就会把麻袋随手丢弃，而鲁本知道，他可以以5分钱一条的价格把麻袋再卖回工厂。
那天，他找到了两条麻袋，拿到杂乱的木材厂，卖给了为钉子打包的人。
男孩手里紧紧攥着两个5分硬币，两公里的路程，他是一路小跑着回到家的。
他家附近有座旧谷仓，是用来圈养山羊和鸡的。鲁本在那里找到一个锈迹斑斑的苏打铁罐，把两枚硬币投了进去。然后，他爬上谷仓的阁楼，把铁罐藏在一堆散发着甜香味的干草底下。
鲁本回到家时已是晚饭时分，此时父亲正坐在大餐桌旁摆弄着渔网，母亲多拉在灶台边忙着准备晚饭，鲁本在桌旁坐了下来。
他望着母亲，笑了。夕阳的余晖透过窗子照进来，把母亲棕褐色的披肩发染成了金黄色。苗条、美丽的母亲是这个家的中心，她像胶水一样，把这个家紧紧地黏结在一起。
母亲有永远也干不完的家务活，她要用老式的“胜家”缝纫机为一家人缝缝补补，要做饭、烤面包、打理菜园、挤羊奶，还要用搓衣板洗衣服。可母亲很快乐，在她看来，全家人的安康才是最重要的。
每天放学后做完家务，鲁本就在镇上搜寻装钉子的麻袋。只有两间教室的学校放暑假的那天，鲁本比任何人都高兴，现在他有更多时间去完成他的使命了。
整个夏季，鲁本除了做家务——给菜园锄草、浇水以及砍柴、打水外，一直进行着他的秘密活动。
转眼，菜园收获的季节到了，蔬菜被腌制装罐后储藏起来，此时，学校也开学了。不久，秋叶飘零，海湾吹来阵阵寒风。鲁本在街头徘徊，努力找寻着他的宝贝麻袋。
他常常会饿着肚子，又冷又累，但是一想到商店橱窗里的那样东西，他又来了精神。妈妈偶尔会问：“鲁本，你去哪儿啦？我们都等你吃饭呢！”
“我出去玩啦，妈妈。对不起。”
每到这时，多拉总会看着他，摇摇头，男孩子嘛。
春天终于来了，绿意盎然，鲁本的精神也随之振奋。时候到了！他跑进谷仓，爬上草垛取出铁罐，倒出硬币，开始数起来。
他又数了一遍，还差20美分。镇上哪儿还会有废弃的麻袋呢？他必须在天黑之前再找四条卖掉。
鲁本顺着沃特街向前跑去。
当鲁本赶到工厂时，夕阳已经将周围的一切拉长了影子，收购麻袋的人正要锁门。
“先生！请先别锁门。”
那人转过身打量了一下鲁本，他浑身脏兮兮的，满头大汗。
“明天再来吧，孩子。”
“求求您了，先生，我必须现在就把这几条麻袋卖掉——求您啦。”那人听出鲁本的声音在颤抖，他快哭了。
“你为何这么急着要这点儿钱呢？”
“这个是秘密。”
那人接过麻袋，从衣袋里掏出四枚硬币放到鲁本手中。鲁本轻声说了句“谢谢”，就转身往家跑。
然后，他取出铁罐，紧紧地抱着，直奔那家商店。
“我有钱啦！”他郑重地对店主说。
店主向橱窗走去，取出鲁本想要的那件“宝贝”。
他掸去上面的灰尘，用牛皮纸小心地把它包好，放到鲁本手中。
鲁本一路狂奔到家，冲进前门。妈妈正在厨房擦灶台。“看看，妈妈！看这个！”鲁本边跑边叫着来到妈妈跟前，他把一个小盒子放到妈妈那双因劳动而变得粗糙的手上。
妈妈生怕把包装纸弄坏了，小心翼翼地将它拆开，一个蓝色天鹅绒首饰盒映入眼帘。多拉打开盒盖，瞬间，泪水模糊了她的双眼。
一枚小巧的心形胸针上刻着两个金字：母亲。
那是1946年的母亲节。
多拉从没收到过这样的礼物，除了结婚戒指外，她没有别的饰物。她一把搂过儿子，不说一句话，脸上露出圣洁的微笑，整个人愈加容光焕发起来。
心灵小语
做一个有梦想的人，虽然追逐梦想的过程是艰难的，但是梦想是我们起航的地方，它引导我们追逐明天的太阳，母亲会在梦想的彼岸向我们召唤，收获的是浓浓的亲情与感动。
词汇笔记
elastic [i'l?stik] n.松紧带；橡皮圈
Our bodies are like "rubber-bands." When stretched, it will return to its original elastic form, and ready to be stretched again.
我们的身体就好像“橡皮圈”，当被伸张之后因放松而回到原来的形状，以后可以再次被伸张。
hammering ['h?m?ri?] n.锤打；锤击；抨击
She heard a low hammering sound in the bed-room.
她听见寝室里有一种低沉的锤打的声音。
hessian ['hesi?n] n.打包麻布；浸沥青的麻绳
Mark overlaid the walls with hessian.
马克在墙上贴了一层麻布。
stained [steind] adj.玷污的；着色的
This glass is stained.
玻璃杯有污点。
小试身手
5美元足够他们家买一周的伙食了。
________________________________________
鲁本礼貌地碰了一下他的旧帽檐儿，然后径自走出店门。阳光下的罗伯茨湾海水在清新的微风吹拂下，泛着阵阵涟漪。鲁本迈开大步，走得很坚定。
________________________________________
春天终于来了，绿意盎然，鲁本的精神也随之振奋。
________________________________________
短语家族
Standing proud and straight in his flour-sack shirt and washed-out trousers.
washed-out：褪色的
________________________________________
Finally spring burst into glorious green and Reuben's spirits erupted.
burst into：闯入；突然进入
________________________________________