第三章 有一种幸福叫守候（12）
《世界上最温情的故事》作者：吴文智 2017-04-14 12:57
第三章 有一种幸福叫守候（12）
As our sweet conversation continued, my eyes glanced across the restaurant, stopping at the small corner booth where an elderly couple sat. Her floral-print dress seemed as faded as the cushion on which she had rested her worn handbag, The top of his head was as shiny as the soft- boiled egg on which he very slowly nibbled.
She also ate her oatmeal at a slow, almost tedious pace.
But what drew my thoughts to them was their undisturbed silence. It seemed to me that a melancholy emptiness permeated their little corner.
As the exchange between Michael and me fluctuated from laughs to whispers, confessions to assessments, this couple’s poignant stillness called to me. How sad, I thought, not to have any thing left to say. Wasn’t there any page that they hadn’t yet turned in each other’s stories? What if that happened to us?
Michael and I paid our small tab and got up to leave the restaurant. As we walked by the corner where the old couple sat, I accidentally dropped my wallet. Bending over to pick it up, I noticed that under the table, each of their free hands was gently cradled in the other’s. They had been holding hands all this time!
I stood up and felt humbled by the simple yet profound act of connection I had just been privileged to witness. This man’s gentle caress of his wife’s tired fingers filled not only what I had previously perceived as an emotionally empty corner, but also my heart. Theirs was not the uncomfortable silence whose threat one always feels just behind the punch line or at the end of an anecdote on the first date. No, theirs was a comfortable, relaxed ease, a gentle love that knew it did not always need words to express itself.
They had probably shared this hour of the morning with each other for a long time, and maybe today wasn’t that different from yesterday, but they were at pea
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As our sweet conversation continued, my eyes glanced across the restaurant, stopping at the small corner booth where an elderly couple sat. Her floral-print dress seemed as faded as the cushion on which she had rested her worn handbag, The top of his head was as shiny as the soft- boiled egg on which he very slowly nibbled.
She also ate her oatmeal at a slow, almost tedious pace.
But what drew my thoughts to them was their undisturbed silence. It seemed to me that a melancholy emptiness permeated their little corner.
As the exchange between Michael and me fluctuated from laughs to whispers, confessions to assessments, this couple’s poignant stillness called to me. How sad, I thought, not to have any thing left to say. Wasn’t there any page that they hadn’t yet turned in each other’s stories? What if that happened to us?
Michael and I paid our small tab and got up to leave the restaurant. As we walked by the corner where the old couple sat, I accidentally dropped my wallet. Bending over to pick it up, I noticed that under the table, each of their free hands was gently cradled in the other’s. They had been holding hands all this time!
I stood up and felt humbled by the simple yet profound act of connection I had just been privileged to witness. This man’s gentle caress of his wife’s tired fingers filled not only what I had previously perceived as an emotionally empty corner, but also my heart. Theirs was not the uncomfortable silence whose threat one always feels just behind the punch line or at the end of an anecdote on the first date. No, theirs was a comfortable, relaxed ease, a gentle love that knew it did not always need words to express itself.
They had probably shared this hour of the morning with each other for a long time, and maybe today wasn’t that different from yesterday, but they were at pea