An elderly woman taught me that when you get to know the people whom others ignore, you could find yourself a real life angel.

A Buried Treasure

By Bob Perks

　　She is your neighbor. She lives in that house down the street where the grass gets a little tall in the summer.  The sidewalks remain covered in snow a little longer than most of the homes in your area. During your early morning drive, you'll see her outside in her housecoat and slippers, sweeping the porch.  Even on a warm summer day, she wears a heavy sweater.
　　Every so often you see her walking down the street with her fold-up pushcart, heading toward the grocery store. For the most part she is invisible to the world. She has become a part of the scenery. She goes about her daily routines, asking for nothing from the world. And the world responds by doing nothing for her.
　　The truth is she could die tomorrow and you most likely wouldn't even miss her.
　　"They're selling that old house down the street. You know, where that old lady lived."
　　"I saw a sign at the grocery store. They're having a tag sale. I bet there's some great old stuff in there. Let's make a point to go Saturday. We'll get there early for some real bargains."
　　By the end of that Saturday, when the last piece of her life has been sold, she will be but a memory for someone. Her worth to whatever family members laid claim to her property will be in dollars and cents. She was just passing through this life, biding her time. 
　　"How sad," you say to yourself.
　　How sad indeed.  Sad that you never got to know her.
　　If you had taken the time to say hello one day you would have been blessed. Perhaps walking the down the street one early summer's eve, you would have seen her sitting on the old oak rocking chair you got at a bargain price the day they auctioned off her life. That chair was hand-made by her father. He came to America with the skill of a craftsman and raised her and her siblings with his bare hands. Her momma sat in that chair and breast-fed every one of them. She made their clothes, baked bread every day, and tended to a large garden that they depended on for fresh vegetables.
　　This mysterious old lady was married once for what would have been a lifetime for most of us. Her husband died years ago, but not before he made the last payment on the home you rummaged through on Saturday. 
　　Children? They had seven kids and raised them on hand-me-downs and fresh garden vegetables. Two died at an early age, one in a car accident when he was just a teen. The others went on to college and scattered across the U.S. in search of big dollars, big homes, and little respect for who gave them life and everything they had today.
　　Except for a few photographs that they split among themselves as tokens of the "good old days," they each received their portion of the estate and went on with their lives.
　　Somewhere in her possessions they found an envelope filled with cash. On it were written the words, "I couldn't spend your money."  For they would send her checks to pay someone to cut the grass and shovel the sidewalk.
　　She did it herself.
　　She had very few friends to visit her. The ones still around were tucked away in nursing homes she couldn't get to visit.
　　Yes, how sad it is that you didn't take the time to say hello. You would have met an honest-to-goodness angel here on earth. 
　　I am guilty, too. You see, I wouldn't have met her either, except one day while driving past her house I blew a tire and pulled by the side of the road. While I was struggling with the spare, she came out and offered me a glass of homemade iced tea. I sat on her steps as she rocked in that chair and told me a lifetime of stories. She talked so long she apologized, for she rarely got visitors. I assured her that she need not apologize at all. I was the one who was sorry that I had never stopped by sooner.
　　
　　"You are an angel," I told her. 
　　 In her sweet, gentle voice, she said, "We are each other's angels. We meet when it is time."
　　She died the other day, and I sat on her front porch and watched her life fall apart.
　　The neighbors got some real bargains that day. But I found a treasure.



　　一位老妇人让我明白，当你了解了那些被其他人忽略的人们的时候，你会发现自己是一个凡间的天使。

逝去的财富

〔美国〕鲍勃•珀克斯

　　她是你的邻居。她就住在沿街的那栋房子里，夏天的时候房子周围的草会长得稍高些。人行道上的积雪停留的时间总是久一点，这当然是相对于你居住地的大多数住宅来说。早上开车出去时，你会看到她穿着家常便服，趿拉着拖鞋，清扫门廊。即使是暖和的夏天，她也穿着笨重的毛线衫。
　　偶尔，你会看到她推着折叠手推车，沿着街道走向杂货店。对于这个世界，她大多数时候是隐形的。她只是一道风景。她这么日复一日地过着，不向这个世界要求什么。而这个世界也从来不会给她什么。
　　事实上，也许她明天就死了，你甚至很可能不会想念她。
　　“他们在出售沿街的那栋老房子，你知道的，就是那个老妇人住的。”
　　“我在杂货店里看见告示。他们在卖一些自家不用的旧玩意儿。我敢说那里肯定有不错的旧家具。星期六可得早点去，买些真正的便宜货。”
　　那个星期六结束时，她生活的最后一件物品也被卖掉了，对于某些人，她将只会是一个记忆而已。对于想要处理她的财产的家庭成员来说，她的价值和卖东西所得的钱相差无几。
　　“多悲哀啊。”你自言自语。
　　确实很悲哀，悲哀的是你从来没有了解她。
　　如果你曾经在某天花点时间对她打个招呼，那么你就会是个受祝福的人了。也许在某个初夏的黄昏，你在街上散步时，你就会看到她坐在旧橡树摇椅上，就是拍卖那天你以低廉的价格买下的那把摇椅。那把椅子是她父亲手工制作的，她父亲就是凭着这手艺来美国闯荡并抚养着她和她的兄弟姐妹。她的妈妈曾经坐在那把椅子上给他们喂奶。给他们做衣服，每天烤面包，照看着那个大菜园，那是他们新鲜蔬菜的来源。
　　这个神秘的老妇人结过一次婚，大多数人一生也只结一次。她的丈夫几年前死了，临死前，还清了这周六被你翻箱倒柜找便宜货的这栋房子的最后一期房款。
　　孩子？他们有7个孩子，穿着旧衣服，吃着园子里的蔬菜长大。两个夭折了，一个10岁的时候出了车祸。其他的上了大学，分散在美国各地挣大钱，买大房子，很少会想想谁给了他们生命和他们今天所有的一切。
　　除了一些象征着“美好的往日”的旧照片被他们瓜分以外，他们每个人都得到财产中属于自己的那部分，然后继续过着他们自己的生活。
　　在她的遗物里他们找到了一枚装着现金的信封。上面写着：“我不能花你们的钱。”这些钱本来是支付雇人修剪草坪和清理车道的账单的。
　　她自己做了。
　　少有朋友来看她。仅有的几个也进了疗养院，她也不能去看望他们。
　　是啊，你没花点时间对她打个招呼，多悲哀啊。你本来会在这里遇到一个纯洁的天使的。
　　我也是有罪的。你瞧，我本来不应该遇到她，除了有天驾车驶过她的房子时，轮胎爆了，不得不把车停靠在路边。当我修车的时候，她出来递给我一杯自制的冰茶。我坐在她家的台阶上，她就坐在摇椅里给我讲她的故事。她讲了很久，久得都让她有点抱歉了，因为她很少有客人。我向她保证她一点都不需要道歉，倒是我，每天经过她门口，却从来没有停留片刻，我才是该道歉的那个人。
　　“你是个天使。”我告诉她。
　　她用她甜蜜、温柔的声音回应我：“我们都是别人的天使。时间到了我们就会见面的。”
　　几天前，她死了，我坐在她家的前廊，看着她的生活被四分五裂。
　　邻居那天买了一些真正的便宜货，但是，我发现了一笔财富。

　　（李　芳　译）