我又看了一下，这回看得认真了一些。刻的那颗心还在那，此外还依稀可以看见有支箭穿心而过。心一边的字母已无法辨认了，但在另一边，字母“R”清晰可见，后面还有个像是“I”的字母。“初恋罗曼史？”我问道，“你知道他们是谁吗？”
“唔，我知道。”玛丽？史密斯说，“写的是‘RH爱MS’。”
我意识到我可能涉入太深了，真希望自己身在办公室，远离这个地方和这个老年女士，手里还端着杯茶，舒舒服服地。
她继续讲着……“他拿着一把袖珍折刀，折刀上嵌有长钉，那种长钉可以用来挖出夹在马蹄上的石块，我们一起刻了我名字的第一个字母。我们深深相爱，但他却要离开了，而且不知道他将在军队里干什么。当然我也曾猜想过。那是我们在一起的最后一个夜晚，因为他第二天就回部队去了。
玛丽？史密斯停了一会儿，接着抽泣起来。“他母亲给我看了那封电报。‘R？荷尔姆斯军士….在解放法国的战役中牺牲。’
“我本来希望你和罗宾会结婚的。”她母亲说，“我只有他一个孩子，我本希望能做祖母，有非常可爱的小宝宝。”――她真是那么说的！
“两年后她也去世了。医生说是‘肺炎，胸部着凉造成的’，但我认为这是典型的伤心过度。如果有个孩子那我们俩就都不会这样了。”
玛丽？史密斯又停了会儿没说话。她轻柔地抚摸着那棵刻过的树，就像她曾经抚摸他一样。“现在他们想把我们的树夺走。”她又轻轻地抽噎了一下，然后她转过身来对着我。“当时我年轻漂亮，我爱嫁给谁都可以，我当时可不是现在这么老的。我拥有生命里所要的一切，一个值得爱的男人、健康的身体和充满梦想的未来。”
她顿了顿，朝四周看了一眼。微风轻轻吹拂着树叶，发出叹息般的沙沙声。“当然，那时还有其他人，但他们连罗宾的一丝一毫都比不上！”她肯定地说。“现在我一无所有——只剩下残留在这棵树上的记忆。那个可恶的家伙竟建议把路修在我们所站的这个地方，我真希望掐死他，我会对他说：你从没爱过吗，你活过吗，你从不知道什么叫记忆吗？你知道，不仅仅是我们，现在我仍能看见些男男女女像当年的我和罗宾那样到这儿来。是的，我一定要对他说！”
我转过身去，心里感到很难过。
The Best Kind of Love
最亲密的爱
I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.
"I"m young again！" she shouts exuberantly.
As my friend raves on about her new love， I"ve taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years， Scott， has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner， he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.
When my friend asked me "What will make this love last？" I ran through all the obvious reasons： commitment， shared interests， unselfishness， physical attraction， communication. Yet there"s more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday， after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper， Scott flipped it playfully at me： this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery， we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.
And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note， then another， until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" （my cooking kettle） and the "treasure" of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.
There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why， once a year， I must get away from the house， the kids—and even him-to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.
There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens—we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction， he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I"d read it.
There is forgiveness. When I"m embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties， Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market， I gave him a hug and said， "It"s okay. It"s only money."
