愛的小紙條

It's been over eleven years now. It was a wintry afternoon， the snow swirling around the cedar trees outside， forcing little icicles to form at the tips of the deep green foliage clinging to the branches.

My older son， Stephen， was at school， and Reed， my husband， at work. My three little ones were clustered around the kitchen counter， the tabletop piled high with crayons and markers. Tom was perfecting a paper airplane， creating his own insignia with stars and stripes， while Sam worked on a self-portrait， his chubby hands drawing first a head， then legs and arms sticking out where the body should have been. The children mostly concentrated on their work， Tom occasionally tutoring his younger brother on exactly how to make a plane that would fly the entire length of the room.

But Laura， our only daughter， sat quietly， engrossed in her project. Every once in a while she would ask how to spell thenameof someoneinour family，then painstakingly form the letters one by one. Next， she would add flowers with small green stems， complete with grass lining the bottom of the page. She finished off each with a sun in the upper right hand corner， surrounded by an inch or two of blue sky. Holding them at eye level， she let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

\"What are you making， Honey?\" I asked.

She glanced at her brothers before looking back at me. \"It's a surprise，\" she said， covering up her work with her hands.

Next， she taped the top two edges of each sheet of paper together， trying her best to create a cylinder. When she had finished， she disappeared up the stairs with her treasure.

It wasn't until later that evening that I noticed a \"mailbox\" taped onto the doors to each of our bedrooms. There was one for Steve. There was one for Tom. She hadn't forgotten Sam or baby Paul.

For the next few weeks， we received mail on a regular basis. There were little notes confessing her love for each of us. There were short letters full of tiny compliments that only a seven-year-old would notice. I was in charge of retrieving baby Paul's letters， page after page of colored scenes including flowers with happy faces.

\"He can't read yet，\" she whispered， \"But he can look at the pictures.\"

Each time I received one of my little girl's gifts， it brightened my heart.

I was touched at how carefully she observed our moods. When Stephen 1ost a baseball game， there was a letter telling him she thought he was the best ballplayer in the whole world. After I had a particularly hard day， there was a message thanking me for my efforts， complete with a smile face tucked near the bottom corner of the page.

This same little girl is grown now， driving off every day to the community college. But some things about her have never changed. One afternoon only a week or so ago， I found a love note next to my bedside.

\"Thanks for always being there for me， Mom，\" it read， \"I'm glad that we're the best of friends.\"

I couldn't help but remember the precious child whose smile has brought me countless hours of joy throughout the years. There are angels among us. I know， I live with one.

11年前，那是一個寒冬的下午。窗外，大片的雪花繞著雪松盤旋飛舞，枝頭深綠色的葉尖上掛著小小的冰柱。

我的大兒子史蒂芬去上學了，丈夫里德去上班了，三個小孩擠在廚柜旁，桌面上堆積著蠟筆和記號筆，湯姆正用星星和條紋畫徽章，為紙飛機做漂亮的裝飾。山姆正忙著自畫像，他胖呼呼的小手先畫下了一個頭，然后在本該畫身體的位置畫了腿和胳膊。孩子們都全神貫注地忙著手上的活，湯姆不時地告訴弟弟怎樣正確地制作一架能夠穿行于整間房子的飛機。

我們唯一的女兒勞拉靜靜地坐在那里，聚精會神地忙著她的事。偶爾她也會問及如何拼寫我們家庭某成員的名字，然后極為困難地逐個字母拼寫出來。接著，她畫了一些有著嫩綠小莖的花朵，在紙張的底部添些草邊，每完成一頁，她都會在右上角處畫一片藍天，中間是太陽。然后把它們舉到眼前欣賞一番，心滿意足地長舒了一口氣。

“寶貝，你干什么呢？”我問道。

看我之前她瞥了一眼她的兄弟們。

“這是一個驚喜。”她雙手捂住了作品。

接著，她把每張紙的上下兩邊粘貼起來，盡量做成一個圓筒。做好后，她帶著那些寶貝消失在樓梯上。

直到深夜我才發現，每間臥室的門上都貼著一個“郵箱”。史蒂夫一個，湯姆一個，連山姆和小保羅也沒忘了。

之后的幾周內，我們會定期收到信件。她對我們每個人的愛都通過這小小的紙條表達了，這些短信滿是一個年僅7歲的孩子純真的問候。小保羅的信件由我負責拆閱，那是一頁一頁的彩色圖畫，其中有花朵，也有歡樂的笑靨。

“他還不識字，”她喃喃自語道，“但他能看這些圖畫。”

每次收到小女兒的禮物，我沉悶的心就豁然開朗。

她對我們心情體察細微令我頗受感動，史蒂芬輸了棒球賽后，便收到一封信，她認為他是世界上最好的棒球手。某天我感覺特別勞累時，便會收到一封信，對我的努力表示感謝，信紙角下還附有一個笑臉。

如今，那個小女孩已經長大，每天開車上社區學院。但是有些事情她一直都沒有改變。大概就在一周前的一個下午，我在枕邊發現了一張愛的紙條。

“媽媽，感謝您一如既往地支持我，”上面寫著，“我為有您這樣的好朋友而感到高興。”

我情不自禁地想起，多年以來，這個可愛孩子的笑容曾帶給我無盡的歡樂。人間確有天使，我知道，我正幸運地與其中一位生活在一起。