At last my feet were free.My arms were free.Now if I could just learn how to stand up.If I could grip the bars with both hands and pull myself up，I could look at my sleeping mama and dada，instead of looking at the never changing ceiling.I managed to roll over onto my tummy.I moved my legs and my arms in different directions.I was slowly getting into the position I wanted to be in.I was ****** real progress.I was determined to stand by myself.
I heard a noise coming from where mama and dada were sleeping.I tried to look over.But my head was too heavy in the position I was in.I got a burst of energy and grabbed hold of the bars.I moved my legs.My head was rising up，and my body was following it.I was almost on my feet.
I called out “Dada -mama！”
There was no reply.I looked over at them.They were sleeping.They were sleeping，and I was standing.For the first time in my life I was standing，and they were asleep.I had to wake them.I had to let them see me.
I called out “Mama-mama-gaah.”
There was no reply，and I didn’t know how long I could stay like this for.I started shaking my legs.The bars shuck with me，and with them shaking there was a noise.I shuck harder.I called out.There was a movement in the bed.My mother‘s head had moved and her eyes had opened.I was excited for her to see me standing up like this.I smiled at her.She smiled back at me.
I said “Ga ga -goo.”
Then it dawned on her.I could stand！I was doing it now！I could stand up！She sat up，smiled at me and said，“Hello sweetie.Did you stand up all by yourself？”
I laughed，and with pride I said “Goo gah.”
She lay back down and said “Good boy.Now lie back down and go asleep.”
I smiled back and said “Goo goo goo.”and I won’t tell you what that means！
我睁开眼睛，我正仰望天花板。我不知道自己为何盯着那里，但我一直在看，在笑。我踢腿，甩手臂，但并未能因此而更靠近景物。我大喊：“嘎，嘎，嘎啊，咕。”
没有回应。
我抬起头，又倒回去。我仰卧着，从脖子到脚被爸爸塞进毯子里。我想把双臂伸到被子外，但是不知道怎样才能协调进行。自出娘胎后，我就一直在练习，但我还是需要一些时间去适应。
我再次大喊：“咕，咕，妈妈。”
依然没有回应。我不断地蹬踢，挥舞双臂，晃动头脑。我尝试了所有已掌握的动作，仍然无法移动包裹我的温暖的束缚。我再次仰望天花板，那里跟先前一样，没有改变，可那是我能看到的一切。我的两侧有围栏，我的目光可以穿过围栏。但我知道，如果我要那样扭头看的话，准会把我的脖子弄歪的；其实还是天花板好看一点。房间越来越明亮，我就越加清醒，越加烦躁不安。
我又大喊：“妈妈，爸爸，嘎嘎，咕咕。”
仍然没有回应，我不断地踢呀踢，用双臂推。我下定了决心。躺在那里太久了，我不舒服。我一门心思要改变我的位置，噢，好了，终于摆脱了湿湿的尿布。
这次我更大声喊道：“妈妈，妈妈，妈妈”。我感到很失败，只好嘀咕着：“咕，嘎，嘎。”
我仍然尝试挣脱束缚，最后终于奏效了。我的一只手臂可以自由活动了，我可以把手臂伸到头顶上，可以摸自己的嘴巴，鼻子，耳朵，还有身旁的围栏。我可以摸到围栏了。不仅如此，还能抓住它呢。如果我抓住栏杆，同时又踢又摇，会是怎样的呢？我试了，我可以。
我大声欢呼：“嘎嘎，咕咕。”
我不断地踢蹬，摇晃，最后，我的另外一只手臂也自由了。我现在有两个手臂用了，我要好好运用它们。我努力把被子往下推，却无济于事。于是我手抓栏杆，挂在围栏上，如果我的手臂够长，就可以触及另外一端。但是不够长，所以我不能够。我不断地踢呀踢，我灵机一动，我用腿踢，同时用双手推，成功啦。我的束缚越来越松，我可以更自由地活动了。我很温暖，我需要空气，我停止踢蹬，看了一眼天花板，那里没有任何改变。
我最后一次大喊：“嘎嘎，妈妈，爸爸。”
仍然没有回应，只有一个滑稽的噪音从我爸爸鼻子里发出来。我又开始踢蹬了，我有了真正的进展，我开始做一些新的动作。我把被子蹬到湿尿布上。我已经大大的成功了，还可以更成功。当我把被子蹬到脚下时，我感觉棒极了。
我哼着小曲：“嘎嘎咕咕，嘎咕嘎。”
最后我的脚自由了，手臂也自由了。要是现在我可以学会如何站起来就好了。如果我能够双手抓住栏杆把自己拉起来，我就能看到我熟睡的爸爸妈妈，而不是老看着那一成不变的天花板。我终于能翻过身来，我朝各个方向移动着我的腿和手臂，慢慢地我挪到了想去的位置。我真的大有进步了，我决定自己站起来。
我听到从爸妈睡觉的地方传来了一个声音。我竭力想看看是怎么回事，但我的头太重了。我一鼓作气，抓住栏杆。我移动了我的双腿。我抬起头，身体也随之立起。我差不多可以站起来了。
我大喊：“爸爸妈妈！”
没有回应。我朝他们看过去，他们在睡觉。他们在睡觉，而我却站着。在我的生命中，我第一次站起来了，而他们却在熟睡。我必须唤醒他们，让他们看看我。
我大喊：“妈妈，妈妈，嘎啊！”
没有回应，我不知道还能这样站多久。我开始摇晃双腿，围栏跟着摇晃，而且还发出了一些响声。我更使劲地摇晃，我大声喊叫。床上有动静了，我妈的头动了，她睁开眼睛。她能看见我如此站起来，我兴奋极了。我朝她微笑，她也向我微笑。
我说：“嘎嘎，咕。”
她渐渐明白了。我可以站起来了！我正站着！我可以站起来！她坐起来，微笑着对我说：“亲爱的，你自己站起来的吗？”
我笑了，很自豪地说：“咕，嘎。”
她躺回去，说道：“好孩子，躺回去，睡觉吧。”
我微笑着对她说：“咕，咕，咕。”我不会告诉你这是什么意思的
回家Go home
They say you can never go home again.
Well，you can.Only you might find yourself staying at a Travel Lodge，driving a rented Ford Contour and staking out your childhood home like some noir private eye just trying to catch a glimpse of the Johnny-come-latelys that are now living in YOUR HOUSE.
It‘s a familiar story.Kids grow up，parents sell the family home and move to some sunnier climate，some condo somewhere，some smaller abode.We grown up kids box up all the junk from our childhoods—dusty ballet shoes，high school text books，rolled up posters of Adam Ant—and wonder where home went.
I’m not a sentimental person，I told myself.I don‘t need to see old 392226th Street before we sell the place.I even skipped the part where I return home to salvage my mementos from the garage.I let my parents box up the stuff which arrived from San Francisco like the little package you get when released from jail.You know，here’s your watch，the outfit you wore in here，some cash.Here‘s the person you once were.
After a year，San Francisco called me home again.I missed it.High rents had driven all my friends out of the city to the suburbs so I made myself a reservation at a motel and drove there in a rented car.
The next day，I cruised over to my old neighborhood.There was the little corner store my mom used to send me to for milk，the familiar fire station，the Laundromat.
I cried like the sap I never thought I’d be.I sat in the car，staring at my old house，tears welling up.It had a fresh paint job，the gang graffiti erased from the garage door.New curtains hung in the window.
I walked up and touched the doorknob like it was the cheek of a lover just home from war.I noticed the darker paint where our old mezuzah used to be.I sat on our scratchy brick stoop，dangling my legs off the edge，feeling as rootless as I‘ve ever felt.
You can’t go home in a lot of ways，I discovered that night，when I met up with an ex-boyfriend.
“Great to see you，”he said，giving me a tense hug.“The thing is，I only have an hour.”
What am I，the LensCrafters of social engagements？
As it happens，his new girlfriend wasn‘t too keen on my homecoming.We had a quick drink and he dropped me back off at my motel where I scrounged up my change to buy some Whoppers from the vending machine for dinner.I settled in for the evening to watch “Three to Tango”on HBO.
“You had to watch a movie with a Friends’cast member，”said my brother，nodding empathetically.“That‘s sad.”
