最珍貴的時光

Steve， what am I going to do?” Mike

1)bemoaned.

Our friend， Mike， was going to finally see his boys. Separated from his wife， who lived on an entirely different continent， it had been over a year since he’d seen his boys. They were flying in to spend one week with him.

The fear on his face was real. He was apparently not used to having them to himself; especially for one whole week.

“I don’t have the money to take them anywhere，” he said. “I was hoping to go on down to that water park in 2)New Braunfels.”

“That place is expensive， Mike!” Steve retorted. “You don’t need to spend a lot of money to have fun! Take them to the springs. Fill up your gas tank and go find some historic sites. You can borrow my tent and go camping.”

Judging from the distaste on our friend’s face， none of those suggestions were worthy of conside-ration. Stubbornly 3)ingrained in him was the idea that the amount of money 4)splurged on his children equaled the amount of love he’d get in return.

“What do your boys like to do?” I ventured.

He shrugged， “I don’t know.”

“No， I mean， what are their hobbies?”

“I’m not sure.”

My heart filled with compassion for his boys—and for their clueless father. They connected

mainly through 5)sporadic， expensive phone calls and through infrequent exchanges of 6)snail mail. Mike wanted to make an impression on his boys: he was successful here in the United States and could afford to take them anywhere they wanted.

He just didn’t get it.

I remember as a child the things my family did that cost practically nothing at all. A spontaneous picnic under a generous oak， pulling 7)off the beaten path to pursue a trail of signs that led us to a barn filled with dusty treasures. Taking walks around the block with my parents after dinner. One Christmas stood out when， at a loss as to what to give his girls， my dad presented each of us with a wrapped shoebox inside of which was a slip of paper that simply said， “I love you.” I can’t even remember what else I opened that Christmas morning.

One Sunday afternoon， while on the freeway， Steve veered off to revisit a small town we hadn’t seen in a while and stopped at an empty city park. There， the boys gleefully sampled 8)monkey bars and listless swings. We brushed a layer of leaves off the concrete picnic table and ate sandwiches we had brought from home. Afterwards， they strayed to the edge of a creek， pocketing unusual stones， and swirling patterns in the shallow water with sticks.

I remember with fondness the time when Steve was anxious to instill a love for camping to the older boys， ages three and four at the time.

Across the street from our home， under a cluster of 9)gnarled oak trees， Steve spread out fake grass turf， erected a tent on it， and stuffed it with sleeping bags， blankets and pillows. He even placed a 10)potty chair at the entrance of the tent.

It was unusual spring weather—chilly with light， misting rain. The boys each carried a battery-powered lantern with them to light their way to the tent.

In lawn chairs， around a small campfire that Steve had prepared， the boys roasted 11)marshmallows for the first time on antique extendable forks we had collected over the years in anticipation of that very moment. Steve pointed out constellations and identified a variety of nighttime sounds. We told stories and sang to an audience of trees. And for a while there， with the boys in our laps， we quietly gazed at the campfire’s 12)hypnotic dance， the crackling and smoke filling the silence. Afterwards， we directed the boys to a small picnic table Steve had 13)fashioned out of tree stumps. They brushed their teeth there by lantern-light， removed their shoes， and squealed loudly when they entered the tent， jumping up and down. Steve wasted no time joining their 14)merrymaking.

It’s a sight that will burn brightly in my memory for a long， long time.

Steve liked to earn a little pocket change on occasion by delivering antiques for a dealer friend to

various parts of Texas. He’d pack up all four kids and treat them to these road trips. Someone asked him why he didn’t just stick the kids in daycare during those times.

His answer?

“Where else can a father spend quality time with his children and get paid for it?”

It’s true what they say. Enjoy them while they’re young. The years will 15)zip by， and

before you can say “knee replacement surgery，” they’re picking out a retirement home for you.

Our son， Cody， overheard Steve make a comment about someone who “just needed to go out and get a life.”

“What’s a life， Dad?”

“It’s when you take each day and make the most of it.”

“Oh， I see!”

We don’t know if he really understood. But we do know that time is the most important thing one can spend on a child.

Just don’t spend it all in one place.

史蒂夫，我要怎么做？”邁克哀嘆道。

我們的朋友邁克終于將見到他的幾個兒子了。他和妻子分開后，她就住在另一個洲。他和幾個兒子已經一年多沒見面了。他們將要搭飛機過來和他團聚，共度一周。

他臉上呈現出的畏懼是真實的。他顯然不習慣單獨地和他們在一起，特別是一起待上一整周的時間。

“我沒錢帶他們去任何地方，”他說，“我希望能帶他們去新布朗費爾斯市的那個水上樂園玩。”

“邁克，那個地方很貴的！”史蒂夫反對道，“你不需要花很多錢在玩上！帶他們去看泉水；或者加滿你的汽油箱，帶他們去探尋一些歷史遺跡；你還可以借我的帳篷去野營。”

從我們這個朋友那一臉厭惡的表情可以判斷，這些建議對他來說沒任何參考價值。他內心有一種想法根深蒂固：花在他孩子身上的錢等同于他將獲得回報的愛。

“你幾個兒子喜歡做什么？”我冒昧地問道。

他聳了聳肩說道：“我不知道。”

“不，我是在問，他們有什么業余愛好？”

“我不太清楚。”

我心里充滿了對他兒子——以及他們那個對兒子不甚了解的父親的憐憫之情。他們主要通過不定期撥打費用昂貴的電話以及零星的信件聯系。邁克想給他的兒子留下這樣一種印象：他在美國這里干得很成功，他們想去哪里玩他都能負擔得起費用。

他只是不得要領。

我記得我還小的時候，我們一家人一起做的事幾乎沒有花費什么錢：在一棵很大的橡樹下進行一次無拘無束的野餐，跑到人跡罕至的地方，循跡來到一個裝滿積滿灰塵的寶貝的谷倉；……