公共英語考試四級寫作

公共英語考試四級寫作公共英語考試四級寫作

EverynightafterItuckedherintobed,Isangtoher,asillysong,amade-upsong,oursong.“Staylittle,staylittle,littlelittlestay;littlestaylittlestaylittle.”

ShewouldgiggleandIwouldsmile.ThenextmorningIwouldsay:“Lookatyou.Yougrew.Thesongdidn’twork.”

Isangthatsongforyears,andeverytimeIfinished,shecrossedherheartandpromisedshewouldn’tgrowanymore.

Thenonenight,Istoppedsingingit.Whoknowswhy.Maybeherdoorwasclosed.Maybeshewasstudying.Maybeshewasonthephonetalkingtosomeone.OrmaybeIrealizeditwastimetogiveherpermissiontogrow.

ItseemstomenowthatoursongmusthavehadsomemagicbecauseallthenightsIsangit,sheremainedababy...four,five,six,seven,eight,nine,ten.Theyfeltthesame.Theyevenlookedthesame.Shegottallerandherfeetgotbiggerandsometeethfelloutandnewonesgrewin,butshestillhadtoberemindedtobrushthemandherhairandtotakeashowereverynowandthen.

SheplayedwithdollsandPlay-Doh.ThoughCandyLandwasabandonedforMonopolyandClue,acrossatable,thereshestillwas.Foryears,shewaslikethosewoodendollsthatnestoneinsidetheother,identicalineverythingbutsize.

Oratleastthat’showIsawher.Sheroller-skatedandice-skatedanddidcartwheelsinshoppingmallsandblewbubblesanddrewpictures,whichwehungontherefrigerator.ShedevouredYodelsandslushesandwokeearlyonSundaymorningstowatchDaveyandGoliath.

Sheneversleptthroughthenight,notattenmonths,notattenyears.Whenshewassmall,she’dwakeandcryandI’dtakeherintobedwithme.Whenshegotbigger,she’dwakeandmakeherwaydownthehall,andinthemorning,Iwouldfindherlyingbesideme.

Sheusedtoputnotesundermypillowbeforeshewenttobed.Iusedtoputnotesinherbolognasandwichesbeforeshewenttoschool.SheusedtowaitbythephonewhenIwasaway.Iusedtowaitatthebusstopforhertocomehome.

Thesong,thenotes,thewakinguptofindhernexttome,thewaitingatthebusstop—allthesethingsendedalongtimeago.Upstairsnowisayoungwoman,agrown-up.Shehasbeengrownupforawhile.Everyoneelsehasseenthis—everyonebutme.

Ilookathertoday,oneweekbeforeshegraduatesfromhighschool,andIamproudofher,proudofthepersonshehasbecome.ButI’msad,too—notforher,butforme.Therehasbeenachildinthishousefortwenty-fiveyears.Firstonegrewup,thentheother,buttherewasalwaysthisone...thebaby.

Nowthebabyisgrown.Anddespitewhatpeopletellme—youdon’tlosethem,theygoawaybuttheycomehomeagain,you’lllikethequietwhenshe’sgone,thenextpartoflifeisthebest—Iknowthatwhatliesaheadwon’tbelikewhatwas.

Ilovedwhatwas.Iloveditwhenshetoddledintomyofficeandsetuphertoytypewriternexttomine.Ilovedwatchingherrundownthehallatnurseryschoolstraightintomyarms,afteraseparationofjusttwo-and-a-halfhours.Ilovedtakinghertobuystickersandforwalksandtomovies.Iloveddrivinghertogymnasticsandlisteningtoherfriends.Ilovedbeingtheonesheracedtowhenshewashappyorfrightenedorsad.Ilovedbeingthecenterofherworld.

“Mommy,comeplaywithme.”

“Mommy,I’mhome.”

“Mommy,Iloveyouthebestestandthewidest.”

Whatreplacesthesethings?

“Wanttoseemycapandgown?”shesaysnow,peekingintomyoffice.Sheholdsitup.

Shesmiles.She’shappy.I’mhappyforher.Shekissesmeon