RainWord下载.docx

RainWord下载.docx

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Perhapsthebestpartofastormistheexpectation.Whenwewatchthelightningwithcompleteexcitementwewonderifanotherpowerfulboltwillbesenttotargetthegeneratorandfreeusfromtechnology.Istillrememberwhentherewasnoelectricityonenightlastyearduringthefinals.Icansaywithoutadoubt,thatwasoneofthebesttimesI’vehadhere.I’mnotsurewhatlifewaslikeintheotherresidencehalls,butherethebuildingsuddenlycametolife.Everybodyandtheirroommatesleapttothehalls,flashlightsinhand.Andforonewonderfulnightwewerefreedfromthecomputerlabs,thetelevisions,,theVCRs,thelightsandtheactivitiesofthemodernworld.Insidewetoldstories,playedboardgames,andforonceeventookthetimetogettoknoweveryoneinthehall.Ithinkmostofusevengotmorehomeworkandstudydonethanwehadallyear.AndOthinktheviolentstormoutsideevengaveusafeelingofsafetyasweallsattogether,wrapppedupinourwarmblankets,beingourselves,andhavingpure,worry-freefun.

Soastormcanbeawonderfulthing.Itcanbeasourceofbeauty,wonderandenlightenment.Itcanmakeusfeelfreeasifwetoowereflyinginthewindoutside,andgiveusenergywhichcanlastallnight.Andmostofallitcanbringpeopletogether.Ifapowerfailurecanbringoneresidencehalltogethermaybeweshouldhaveblackoutdayonceayear,andescapeforadayfromalltheworriesofmodernlife.Ifitwasn’tfortheonelastyear,manyofusmayneverhavetakenthetimetomeetourneighbors,andgettoknowourselver.Andtothink,itallstartedwithastorm.

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Loveforrace

Redroseswereherfavorites,hernamewasalso.Andeveryyearherhusbandsentthem,tiedwithprettybows.Theyearhediedtherosesweredeliveredtoherdoor.Thecardsaid,“BemyValentine,”likeslltheyearsbefore.

Eachyearhewentherroses,andthenotewouldalwayssay,“Iloveyouevenmorethisyearthanlastyearonthisday.”Or“Myloveforyouwillalwaysgrowtitheverypassingyear.”Theyearhepassedaway,sheknewthiswasthelasttimethattheroseswouldappear.

Shethought,hemusthaveorderedrosesinadvancebeforethisday.Herlovinghusbanddidnotknowthathewouldpassaway.Healwayslikedtodothingsearly,wellbeforethetime.Then,ifhegottoobusy,everythingwouldworkoutfine.

Shetrimmedthestemsandplacedtheminaveryspecialvase.Then,satthevasebesidetheportraitofhissmilingface.Shesatforhours,inherhusband’sfavouritechair,whilestaringathispictureandtherosessittingthere.

Ayearwentbyanditwashardtolivewithoutherhusband.Withthelonelinessthattragedyhadbecomeherfate.Then,atthatverysamehour,asonValentinesbefore,thedoorellrangandtherewereredrosessittingbyherdoor.

Shebroughttherosesinandthenjustlookedattheminshock.Thenshewenttogetthetelephonetocalltheflowershop.Theowneransweredandsheaskedhimifhecouldexplain,whywouldsomeonedothintohercausinghersuchpain?

“Iknowyourhusbandpassedawaymorethanayearago,”theownersaid,“Iknewyou’dcallandyouwouldwanttoknow.”Hecontinued,“Theflowersoureceivedtodaywerepaidforinadvance.Yourhusbandalwaysplannedahead,heleftnothingtochance.

“ThereisastandingorderthatIhaveonfiledownhere,andhehaspaidwellinadvance.You’llgetthemeveryyear.ThereisalsoanotherthingthatIthinkyoushouldknow,hewroteaspecisllittlecard…hedidthisyearsago.”

“ThenshouldeverIfindoutthathe’snolongerhere,that’sthecard...thatshouldbewenttoyouthefollowingyear.”Shethankedhimandhungupthephone,hertearsnowflowinghard.Herfingerswereshakingassheslowlyreachedtogetthecard.

Insidethecardshesawthathehadwrittenheranote.Thenshereadintotalsilence.Thiniswhathewrote…

“Hellomylove,Iknowit’sbeenayearsinceI’vebeengone.Ihopeithasn’tbeentoohardforyoutoovercome.

Iknowyoumustbelonelandthepainisveryreal.ForifitwastheotherwayaroundIknowhowIwouldfeel.Thelovewesharedmadeeverythingsobeautifulinlife.Ilovedyoumorethanwordscansay.Youwweretheperfectwifeandidealcompanion.Youweremyfriendandlover;

youfulfilledmyeveryneed.

Iknowit’sonlybeenayearbutpleasetrynottogrieve.Iwantyoutobehappyevenwhenyoushedyourtears.Thatiswhytheroseswillbesenttoyouforyears.

Whenyougettheseroses,thinkofallthehappinessthatwehadtogetherandhowbothofuswereblessedtohaveeachother.IhavealwayslovedyouandIknowIalwayswill.But,mylove,youmustgoon,youhavetoliveyourlife.

Please…trytofindhappiness,whilelivingoutyourdays.Iknowitisnoteasy,butIhopeyoufindsomeways.Theroseswillcomeeveryyearandtheywillonlystopcomingwhenyourdoor’snotanswered,thentheowneroftheflowershopwillstopdeliveringandknockingatthedoor.

Hewillcomefivetimesthatdayincaseyoushouldbeout.Butafterhislastvisithewillknowwithoutadoubt,totaketherosestotheplacewhereI’vetoldhim,andplacetheroseswhereweare,togetheronceagain.”

THELASTLESSON

Iwasverylatethatmorningonmywaytoschoolandwasafraidofbeingblamed.Themasterhadtoldushewouldquestionusonverbs,andIdidnotknowathingaboutthem,forIhadnotdonemylesson.

ForamomentIthoughtofplayingtruant.Theairwassowarmandbright,andIcouldhearthebirdswhistlingontheedgeofwoods,andthePrussiansdrillinginthemeadows.Ilikedthismuchbetterthanlearningtherulesofverbs,butIdidnotdaretostop,soIranquicklytowardsschool.Whenreachingtheschoolyard,Iwasquiteoutofbreath.

Usuallyatthebeginningofschool,thenoiseofdesksbeingopendeandcliosed,andlessonsrepeatedatthetopofthechildren’svoicescouldbeheardoutinthestreet.Occasionallythemasterbeatthetablewiththeheavyrulerashecried,“Silence,please,silence!

”

Ihadhopedtobeabletoeakemyseatinallthisnoisewithoutbeingseen;

butthatmorningtheroomwasquietandorderly.

ThroughtheopenwindowIsawmyschoolmatesalreadyintheirplace.Themasterwaswalkingupanddowntheroomwiththeironrulerunderhisarmandabookinhishand.

AsIenterdehelookedatmekindly,andsaid,“Goquicklytoyourplace,littleFranz;

weweregoingtobeginwithoutyou.Youshouldhavebeenherefiveminutesago.”

Iclimbedovermybenchandsatdownatonceatmydesk.JustthenInoticed,forthefirsttime,thatourmasterworehisfinegreencoatandhisblacksilkcap.

Butwhatsurprisedmemostwastoseesomeofthevillagepeopleseatedonthebenchesattheendoftheroom.Oneofthemwasholdinganoldspellingbookonhisknee;

andtheyalllookedsadlyatthemaster.

WhileIwaswonderingatthis,ourschoolmastertookhisplace.“Children,”hesaid,“thisisthelasttimethatIshallgiveyoualesson.AnorderhascomefromBerlinthatnolanguagebutGermanteachyouGerman.TodayisyourlastlessonintheschoolsofAlsaceandLorraine.AnewmasterwillcometomorrowwhowillteachyouGerman.TodayisyourlastlessoninFrench.IhardlyknewhowtowriteandInevershouldlearnnow.HowIregrettedthehourswastedinthewoodsandfields,thedayswhenIhadplayedandshouldhavestudied!

Mybooksthatashorttimeagohadseemedsotiresome,soheavytocarry,nowseemedtomelikeoldfriends.

IwasthinkingofthiswhenIheardmynamecalled.Itwasmyturntorecite.WhatwouldInothavegiventobeabletosaytheruleswithoutamistake!

ButIcouldnotsayaword,andstoodatmybenchwithoutdaringtoliftmyhead.ThenIheardthemasterspeakingtome.

“Ishallnotblameyou,littleFranz.Youarepunishedenoughnow.Everydayyouhavesaidtoyourself,‘Ihaveplentyoftime.Iwilllearnmylessonstomorrow.’Nowyouseewhathashappened.”

ThenhebegantotalktousabouttheFrenchlanguage,sayingthatitwasthemostbeautifultongueintheworld,andthatwemustkeepitamongusandneverforgetit.

Finallyhetookthegrammarandreadusthelesson.IwassurprisedtoseehowwellIunderstood.Everythingseemedeasy.Ibelievedtoo,thatIhadneverlistenedsoattentively;

anditalmostseemedasifthegoodmanweretryingtoteachusallheknewatthislastlesson.

Whenthelessoningrammarwasoverwebeganourwriting.

Fromtimetotime,whenIlookedupfrommypage,Isawthemasterlookingaboutasofhewishedtoimpressuponhismindeverythingintheroom.

Afterwriting,wehadahistorylesson.Next,thelittleonesrecitedinconcerttheir“Ba,bebi,bo,bu”.

Oh,Ishallalwaysrememberthatlastlesson!

Suddenlythechurchclockstrucktwelve.Themasterrosefromhischair.“Myfriends,”saidhe,“Myfriends,…I…I…”

Butsomethingchokedhim;

hecouldnotfinishthesente