lasked my grandpa what it felt like to grow old. He pondered this question while we sat in his office overbokng the yard, the same yard I pulbd weeds in when lw as a boy.
Grandpa and I spent m any hours during my summ er vacations from elem entary schoolw oring in the yard. We started in the aftemoon when the sun was near its zenithh.
My main job was weed patrol I carried around a plastic bucket and was tasked to eradicat any invader that grew in the yard. And while I was puirng weeds, Grandpa was perfo rming the gam orous work, excavating the rich Ca lifo mia soilfor a new
addition to his ever expanding yard. He grew tom atoes on metalstakes. and plnted straw berries, lettuce and radishes in the ground. When they were ripe for picking. he'd bring them in side to Grandm a's kitchen so they could be prepared.
Grandpa was an artist. The yard and ga rden were his canvases. the fbwers and plants were his palette of pa in ts. He was constantly bent over on alfours honing his art, the knees of his jeans sta ined brow n.
At the end of the day, in the early evening, the air would become crisp and cooL Before calling it quits, Grandpa and l would wash up and get a drink of water at the hose on the side of the house. Grandpa would give the t-hand le on the spigot a tum or two. The limp hose would stiffen, and then he'd cup his hand undemeath the hose, the water pooling in his paIm. He'd lift his hand to his m outh and drink. quenching his thirst with each sup.
Grandpa leamed this technique out of necessity whib grow ing up on a farm in Mam re Tow nshpip, Minnesota during the 1920s and 30s. There was a suction water pump outside the farm house, and he'd have to work the handle with one hand and place his free hand beneath the spout. A nd I found it strange he still em p byed this m ethod six ty yea rs later.
I tried im itating him and drink ing from my hand. too. but I could never clench my fingers tight enough. The water would srp through my hand and drbble wastefuly to the ground.
Grandpa took a ip of his black tea, still ponde ring my question on aging. And without ever takng his eyes from the window, grandpa then asked me a question. “H ave you ever been n a hot shower when the water ran cold?” told him lhad.
“T hat's what aging feels like,” he said. “l(fā)n the beg inning of your life it's like you're taking a hot shower. At first the water is too warm, but you get used to the heat and begn enjoyng it. When you're young, you think it's going to be this way fo rever. Life goes on like this for a while.”
“But you begn to feel it som ew here betw een your forties and fifties. The water tem perature drops just the slightest bit. lt's almost im perceptbb, but you know it happened and you know what it means. You try to pretend like you didn't feel it. but you still tum the faucet up to stay warm . But the water keeps going lUkew arm. One day you rea lize the faucet can't go any further. and from here on out the tem perature beg ins to drop-you gradua lly feel the wamth leaving your body.”
Grandpa Cba red his throat and pulled a stained handkerchief from his flannel shirt pocket. He lolew his nose, balled up the handkerchief and put it away. “l(fā)t's a rather he loless fee ling, truth told. The Water is still pleasant, but you know it’llsoon become cold and there's nothing you can do about it. I knew a few peopb in my time who decided to leave the show er on their own termS.They knew it Was never going to get warmer, so Why prolong the inev itable?l W as abb to stay in because l contented my self reca lling the show ers of my youth.I lived a good life, but stillw ish l hadn't taken my younger years for granted. But it's too late now, and no matter how hard l try, I’llnever get the hot water back onagain.”
我和爺爺坐在他辦公室里俯瞰外面的院子,我小時候就在這個院子里拔草。我問爺爺變老是什么感覺,他對這個問題陷入了沉思。
我從小學(xué)開始,每到暑假,我和爺爺總是花很多時間在院子里干活。我們從下午太陽當(dāng)頭的時候開始干。
我的主要工作是搜尋雜草。我提著一個塑料桶四處轉(zhuǎn)悠,任務(wù)是清除院子里徒長的所有雜草。我拔雜草時,爺爺就會進行那項偉大的工程一挖掘肥沃的加州土壤,填充到不斷擴大的院子里。他在金屬籬笆樁上種植西紅柿,在地上種植草莓、生菜和蘿卜。一旦蔬菜水果成熟可采摘時,他就將其送入奶奶的廚房,以備烹飪和享用。
爺爺是一個藝術(shù)家。院子和花園是他的畫布,花草和植物就是他的調(diào)色板。他不停地彎腰,四肢著地,雕琢他的藝術(shù)品,牛仔褲的膝蓋處被染成了棕色。
在一天結(jié)束的時候,傍晚時分,空氣變得清新涼爽。收工前,爺爺和我總會洗一洗,通過房子旁邊的水管暢飲一番。爺爺總是將龍頭上的丁字把手擰一兩下。柔軟的軟管就會變硬,然后他將手捧在軟管下面,用手掌接水。他舉起手送到嘴邊大喝特喝,每一口都是那么解渴。
1920年到1930年間,爺爺在明尼蘇達州幔利鎮(zhèn)的一個農(nóng)場長大,出于必要,他學(xué)會了這種喝水方法。在農(nóng)舍外面有一個吸水泵,他不得不用一只手操作把手,把他的另一只空手放在噴嘴下面。我感到奇怪的是六十年后的今天他仍然使用這種方法。
我試著模仿他,用手捧水喝,可是,我的手指總也并得不夠緊。水總是從我的手中流走,滴到地上糟蹋了。
爺爺抿了一口紅茶,仍然在思考我剛才問的問題。爺爺沒有把眼睛從窗口移開,反問我一個問題。“你有沒有碰到過在熱水淋浴時水突然變涼的情況?”
我告訴他有過。
“這就是衰老的感覺,”他說,“人生一開始,就像你洗熱水澡。起初,水太熱,但你慢慢習(xí)慣了熱,開始喜歡這種熱。當(dāng)你年輕時,你認為它會永遠這樣。生活就這樣持續(xù)一段時間
“但你四五十歲時就會開始感覺到變老。水溫就那么下降一點點。幾乎感覺不到,但你知道已經(jīng)發(fā)生,你知道這意味著什么。你極力假裝自己并沒有感覺到變老,但你仍然需要把水龍頭擰大以保持溫暖。但水還是一直不冷不熱的。早晚有一天,你會意識到水龍頭己擰到最大,從現(xiàn)在開始溫度就開始下降一你逐漸感到溫暖正在離開你的身體。”
爺爺清了清嗓子,從他的法蘭絨襯衫口袋里掏出一塊臟兮兮的手帕。他使勁擤了擤鼻子,團起手帕擦了擦。
“這真是一種無助的感覺,實話告訴你吧。水還是那么舒服,但你知道它很快就會變涼,你無能為力。我那個時代認識的幾個人決定以自己的方式離開淋浴水。他們知道水是永遠不會再變熱了,何必拖延那不可避免的到來呢?我能留下來是因為我通過回憶自己年輕時的淋浴取悅自己。我生活得很好,但仍然希望我沒有認為年輕歲月是理所當(dāng)然的。無奈現(xiàn)已太挽.不管我多努力,我再也得不到那些熱水了。”