新视野大学英语第三版电子书

3.2. Text B Time slows down

Text B Time slows down

1 "Daddy, let's take a walk." 

2 It's an April day in Virginia.  He nods, puts his hands on the arms of his wheelchair, whispers something that makes little sense.  I try to help him up, but he is too heavy andlimp. 

3 "Come for a walk, and then — I've brought you a surprise." 

4 The white curtains surge in the breeze. 

5 Shivering, he complains it's chilly.  "It's cold, I'm tired. Can't we go home now?" 

6 Suddenly we're far away in a time long past in part of a harbor I've never seen before.  December, Chicago, I'm five, and cold. One glove is lost.  My feet are tired.  His legs are longer; he strides quickly through melting snow, toward buildings like airplane sheds withimmense doors. 

7 This is the most exciting place I have ever been. Suddenly my fatigue is gone.  I could walk along here forever, at least until I find out how to get aboardone of the boats. 

8 We slow down our pace. Smaller sheds now. A green diner.  Smells of fish and smoke.  We enter a little hut.  Barrels of salty water, string bags ofshellfish, bundles of fish laid out on ice. 

9 "Daddy, look at that snake!" 

10 "No, that's an eel," says Daddy.  "Smoked. We'll take a portion home for supper." 

11 "I certainly won't eat that!" 

12 "All right," he says, and carries the smelly package.  As we walk back, he tells me aboutmigrations of eels to the Sargasso Sea: how eels come down Dalmatian rivers and swim across the Mediterranean and then the whole Atlantic, until they reach the warm Sargasso Sea.  Here they lay their eggs, and then the baby eels swim back to the native rivers of their parents. 

13 Back at last in the apartment, he unwraps the eel, opens his pocket knife and slices carefully. 

14 "I won't eat it," I saysuspiciously. 

15 "Try one bite, just for me." 

16 "I won't like it." 

17 While he hangs up our coats, I test one pinch. Smelly, smoky, and salty. 

18 He goes into the kitchen to heat milk for me and tea for himself.  I test another pinch.  Then another.  He returns with the steaming cups. 

19 The eel has vanished. 

20 Because it is Sunday and I am five, he forgives me.  Time slows down and the love flows in — father to daughter and back again. 

21 At 19, I fly out to Japan.  My father and I climb Mount Fuji.  High above the Pacific, and hours up the slope, we picnic on dried eel, seaweed crackers, and cold rice wrapped in the eel skin.  He reaches thepeak first. 

22 As the years stretch, we walk along waterways all over the world.  With his long stride, he often overtakes me.  I've never known anyone with such energy. 

23 Some days, time flies with joy all around. Other days, time rots like old fish. 

24 Today in the nursing home in Virginia, anticipating his reluctance, I beg boldly and encourage him, "Please, Daddy, just a little walk.You are supposed to exercise." 

25 He can't get out of his chair.  Not that he often gets up on his own, but once in a while he'll suddenly have a surge of strength.  I stoop to lift his feet from the foot restraints, fold back the metal pieces which often scrape his delicate, paper-thin skin.  "Come, now you can stand." 

26 He grips the walker and struggles forward. Gradually I lift and pull him to his feet.  Standing unsteadily, he sways and then gains his balance. 

27 "See, you made it! That's wonderful! All right, I'll be right behind you, my hand in the small of your back. Now — forward, march!" 

28 He is impatient with the walker as I accompany him to the dining room.  I help him to his chair, and hand him a spoon.  It slips from his fingers.  Pureed tuna is heaped on a plastic plate.  I encourage him, sing him old songs, tell stories, but he won't eat. When I lift a spoonful of gray fishy stuff to his mouth, he says politely, "I don't care for any." 

29 Nor would I. 

30 Then I take the small smelly package covered in white wrapping paper from a plastic bag.  He loves presents, and he reaches forward with awkward fingers to try to open it. The smell fills the room. 

31 "Look, Daddy, they've been out of it for months, but at last this morning at the fish seller near the Potomac, I found some smoked eel." 

32 We unwrap it, and then I take out the Swiss Army Knife my beloved aunt gave me "for safekeeping", and slice the silvery flesh. 

33 "What a beautiful picnic," my father beams. 

34 He takes a sip of his champagne, and then with steady fingers picks up a slice of eel and downs it easily.  Then another, and another, until he eats the whole piece.  And again, time slows down and the love flows in — daughter to father and back again.