有沒有試過(guò)一個(gè)人在外過(guò)春節(jié)的感受？這篇小故事的作者，分享了他獨(dú)自在外過(guò)圣誕的經(jīng)歷感受。有時(shí)候，最好的禮物不是那個(gè)你夢(mèng)寐以求的某個(gè)東西，而是你在內(nèi)心給自己的贊許和肯定，這才是最好的禮物。

　　the gift of possibility

　　最好的圣誕禮物

　　that christmas eve, the streets of boston were clogged with tourists and locals bundled in wool and flannel. shoppers, hawkers, and gawkers whirled and swirled around me。“frosty the snowman,”“let it snow!”and “jingle bells”played in stores; on the sidewalks, the street musicians did their best. everyone, it seemed, was accompanied by someone else smiling or laughing. i was alone.

　　那年的圣誕前夕，我走在波士頓的街道上，路人熙熙攘攘，游客和本地人打扮的衣著光鮮。購(gòu)物者、小販和路人把我圍在中間。街旁商店播放著圣誕歌曲，走到哪里都能聽到《結(jié)霜的雪人》、《下雪吧》和《鈴兒響叮當(dāng)》。人行道上，街頭音樂(lè)家賣力的表演著。似乎每個(gè)人都有人陪伴，臉上綻放出幸福的笑容。只有我是孤身一人。

　　the eldest of a puerto rican family of 11 children growing up in newyork’scrowded tenements, i’d spent much of my life seeking solitude. now, finally, at 27, a college student in the midst of a drown-out breakup of a seven-year relationship, i contemplated what i’d so craved, but i wasn’t quite sure i liked it. every part of me wanted to be alone, but not at christmas. my family had returned to puerto rico, my friends had gone home during the holiday break, and my acquaintances were involved in their own lives. dusk was falling, and the inevitable return to my empty apartment brought tears to my eyes.blinking lights from windows and around doors beckoned, and i wished someone would emerge from one of those homes to ask me inside to a warm room with a christmas tree decorated with tinsel, its velvet skirt sprinkled with shiny fake snow and wrapped presents.

　　我家是一個(gè)波多黎各大家庭，我是家里的長(zhǎng)子，下面還有10個(gè)弟弟妹妹，從小生活在紐約城擁擠的租住房里，在生命的大部分時(shí)間， 我都在尋求片刻的孤獨(dú)。此時(shí)此刻，終于，這個(gè)27歲的大學(xué)生，結(jié)束了一段7年的戀情，得到了他想要的孤獨(dú)，可他卻怎么也高興不起來(lái)。我想一個(gè)人靜一靜，但不是在圣誕節(jié)。我的家人已經(jīng)返回了波多黎各，我的朋友都放假回家了，我認(rèn)識(shí)的人都有自己的生活要過(guò)。天色晚了，想到要回去那空落落的宿舍，眼淚就不爭(zhēng)氣 的冒了出來(lái)。城市住家的燈火點(diǎn)亮起來(lái)，從門窗透出的閃爍燈光仿佛在召喚著我，我多希望有人會(huì)打開房門，邀請(qǐng)我走進(jìn)那溫暖的房間，房間一角是一株圣誕樹，圣誕彩條將它裝飾的絢爛華麗，天鵝絨的樹擺上點(diǎn)綴著閃亮的雪花和包裹好的禮物

　　i stopped at the local market, feeling even more depressed as people filled their baskets with goodies. dates and dried figs, walnuts, pecans, and hazelnuts in their shells reminded me of the gifts we received as children in puerto rico on christmas day, because the big gifts were given on the morning of the feast of the epiphany, on january 6. i missed my family: their rambunctious parties; the dancing; the mounds of rice with pigeon peas; the crusty, garlicky skin on the pork roast; the plantain and yucca pasteles wrapped in banana leaves. i wanted to cry for wanting to be alone and for having achieved it.

　　我在集市邊停下腳步，看到人們提著裝滿美食的籃子，心中感到愈加失落。棗子、無(wú)花果干、核桃和山核桃，還有帶殼的榛子，讓我想起小時(shí)候在波多黎各收到的圣誕禮物。1月6日主顯節(jié)上午，我們才能收到的圣誕大禮。我想念我的家人： 想念他們亂糟糟的派對(duì)，想念他們的舞蹈，想念香噴噴的木豆米飯，想念烤乳豬的蒜味脆皮，想念芭蕉葉包裹的大蕉絲蘭根。我得到了想要的孤獨(dú)，卻忍不住要落下淚來(lái)。

　　in front of the church down the street, a manger had been set up, with mary, joseph, and the barn animals in expectation of midnight and the arrival of baby jesus. i stood with my neighbors watching the scene, some of them crossing themselves, praying. as i walked home, i realized that the story of joseph and mary wandering from door to door seeking shelter was much like my own history. leaving puerto rico was still a wound in my soul as i struggled with who i had become in 15 years in the united states. i’d mourned the losses, but for the first time, i recognized whati’d gained. i was independent, educated, healthy, and adventurous. my life was still before me, full of possibility.