“ Often， marriages tend to drift. They get caught in dangerous currents13. They get off course and head toward hidden sandbars14. No one notices until it is too late. On your face， I see the pain of a marriage gone bad. You will notice the drift in this marriage. You"ll call out when you see the rocks. You"ll yell15 to watch out and pay attention. You"ll be the person with experience，” he sighed. “ And believe me， that"s not such a bad thing. Not bad at all.”
He walked to the window and peeked between the slats16 of the blinds17. “ You see， no one here knows about my first wife. I don"t hide it， but I don"t make a big deal about it. She died early in our marriage before I moved here. Now， late at night I think of all the words I never said. I think of all the chances I let pass by in that first marriage， and I believe I"m a better husband to my wife today because of the woman I lost.”
For the first time， the sadness in his eyes had meaning. Now I understood why I chose to come talk to this man about marriage instead of taking an easier route and getting married outside both our religions. The word “ rabbi” means teacher. Somehow I sensed he could teach me， or even lend me， the courage I needed in order to try again， to marry again and to love again.
“ I will marry you and your David，” said the rabbi.“ If you promise me that you will be the person who yells out when you see the marriage is in danger.”
I promised him I would， and I rose to leave.
“ By the way，” he called to me as I hesitated in his doorway，“ did anyone ever tell you that Joanna is a good Hebrew18 name？”
Sixteen years have passed since the rabbi married David and me on a rainy October morning. And， yes， I have called out several times when I sensed we were in danger. I would tell the rabbi how well his analogy19 has served me， but I cannot. He died two years after our wedding. But I will always be grateful for the priceless gift he gave me： the wisdom to know that all of our experiences in life make us not less valuable， but more valuable， not less able to love， but more able to love.
微尘在射进拉比办公室的那缕阳光中飞舞着，那缕阳光是拉比办公室里惟一的光源。拉比坐在椅子上往后仰，抚摸着他的胡须叹息了一声。他摘下金属丝镜架的眼镜，漫不经心地在他的法兰绒衬衫上擦拭着。
“这么说，”他开了口，“你离婚了。现在你想与这位犹太好小伙子结婚，有什么问题？”
他用手把住他那有花白胡须的下巴，温柔地冲我微笑着。
我真想尖叫。有什么问题？首先，我是基督教徒。第二，我比他年龄大。第三，这绝不是最不重要的——我离过婚！但我没有叫，而是迎向他那双温柔的棕色的眼睛，努力组织着话语。
“您不认为，”我结结巴巴地说，“离过婚就像东西被用过一样吧？就像是受损的物品吧？”
他坐在椅子上，头往后靠，伸直了腿，将目光投向天花板。他轻捋着他那稀稀拉拉的、遮盖了下巴和脖子的胡须，然后他将身子转回办公桌前并朝我这边俯过来。
“比如说你得做个手术。有两位医生可供你选择。你会选谁？选位刚从医学院毕业的，还是选那位有经验的？”
“有经验的那位，”我回答。
他笑了，脸上都是皱纹。“我也是，”他凝视着我说。“那么在这桩婚姻中，你就是有经验的一方。要知道这并不是什么坏事。”
“婚姻往往像在水上漂流，会陷入危险的激流里，会偏离航向流向暗藏的沙洲。等注意到时已经晚了。在你的脸上，我看到了一桩失败婚姻留下的痛苦。在这桩婚姻中你会注意到流向。当你看到岩石时你会大喊一声。你会呼叫要小心些，注意点。你将是有经验的那个人，”他叹息着说。“相信我，那并不是什么坏事，真地不是。”
他走到窗边，透过百叶板向外瞥了一眼。“你瞧，这里没有人知道我的第一位妻子。我并没有掩藏，但我也没有大肆渲染。我们结婚没多久她就去世了，后来我迁居到这里。现在，夜深人静时我想到所有那些我从未能说出的话，我想到所有那些我在第一次婚姻中错过的机会。我相信对于我现在的妻子我是个更好的丈夫，是因为那位我失去的女人。”
第一次，他眼里的悲伤显露出了含义。现在我明白了为什么我选择来和这个人谈婚姻，而没有图省事去找不属于我们双方宗教的人为我们主持婚礼。“拉比”一词意味着老师。不知怎的，我感觉出他会教给我，甚至会给予我去再次尝试、再次结婚、再次奉献出爱情所需要的勇气。
“我会为你和你的戴维主持婚礼，”拉比说。“但条件是，你要答应我，当你发现婚姻陷入危机时你要大声说出来。”
我答应他我会的，然后我起身离开。
“顺便说一句，”当我走到门口犹豫片刻时他叫住我，“有没有人告诉过你乔安娜是个好的希伯来语名字？”
10月一个下雨的早晨，拉比为我和戴维举行了婚礼。一晃16年过去了。是的，有几次当我感觉到我们身陷危机时我就大声地说了出来。我多想告诉拉比他的比喻让我多么受益。但是我无法告诉他。我们结婚两年后他就去世了。但是我永远感激他赐予我的无价的礼物：一种智慧，它使我懂得我们生活中所有的经历并不会使我们贬值，而是使我们更有价值，并不会使我们丧失爱的能力，而是使我们更有能力去爱。
Just we Two For Breakfast
两个人的早餐
When my husband and I celebrated our 38th wedding anniversary at our favorite restaurant， Lenny， the piano player， asked， “ How did you do it？”
I knew there was no simple answer， but as the weekend approached， I wondered if one reason might be our ritual of breakfast in bed every Saturday and Sunday.
It all started with the breakfast tray my mother gave us as a wedding gift. It had a glass top and slatted wooden side pockets for the morning paper-- just as you used to see in the movies. Mother loved her movies， and although she rarely had breakfast in bed， she held high hopes for her daughter. My adoring bridegroom took the message to heart.
Feeling guilty， I suggested we take turns. Despite grumblings --“hate crumbs in my bed” ---Sunday morning found my spouse eagerly awaiting his tray. Soon these weekend breakfasts became such a part of our lives that I never even thought about them. I only knew we treasured this separate， blissful time --read， relax， forget the things we should remember.
Sifting through the years， I recalled how our weekends changed，but that we still preserved the ritual.We started our family （as new parents， we slept after breakfast more than we read），but we always found our way back to where we started，just two for breakfast，one on Saturday and one on Sunday.
When we had more time， my tray became more festive. First it was fruit slices placed in geometric pattern； then flowers came from our garden --sometimes just one blossom sprouting from a grapefruit half. This arranger of mine had developed a flair for decorating， using everything from amaryllis to the buds of a maple tree. My husband said my cooking inspired him. Mother would have approved.Perhaps it was the Saturday when the big strawberry wore a daisy hat that I began to think， how can I top this？ One dark winter night I woke with a vision of a snowman on a tray.That Sunday I scooped a handful of snow and in no time had my man made.With a flourish I put a miniature pinecone on his head.
As I delivered the tray， complete with a nicely frozen snowman， I waited for a reaction. There was none but as I headed down the stairs I heard a whoop of laughter and then，“ You"ve won！ Yes， sir， you"ve won the prize！”
当我和丈夫在我们最喜欢的饭馆庆祝结婚38周年纪念日时，那个弹钢琴的莱尼过来问道： “你们是怎么过过来的？”
我知道， 对于这个问题无法简简单单地来回答。 但随着周末一天天的临近，我开始在想：或许其中的一个原因就是我们每逢星期六和星期天都在床上吃早餐。
一切都是从那个早餐托盘开始的，我妈把它作为结婚礼物送给我们。盘面是玻璃的，两边各有一个细长的木制侧袋用来放晨报——就像过去常常在电影中见到的那样。我妈很喜欢那些电影，尽管她自己很少在床上用早餐，却非常希望女儿能这样。深爱着我的新郎把我母亲的话牢记在心里。
出于心里感觉有些愧疚，我提议由我们两个轮流准备早餐。星期天早上，虽然他嘴里嘟嘟囔囔地抱怨着——“我讨厌饭渣弄到床上。”——但我还是见到丈夫在急切地等候他的早餐。周末早餐不久就成为我们生活中的一部分，习以为常也就不去想它了。我只知道我俩都很珍视这段与其他时间有别的幸福时光——看看报、放松一下自己，忘记那些本该记在心里的事情。
细想逝去的岁月，我回忆起我们周末生活的诸多变化，但这个老习惯却依旧保留下来。我们建立起了这个家庭（初为父母时，早饭后的时间我们多半是睡一会儿，而不是阅读），但是我们总能够找到归路，返回起点——只是两个人的早餐，星期六一次，星期天一次。
