女儿八年级，前两天贴了女儿的中文作文，中文作文搬家的连接，写的是七岁那年，搬家时她心里的感受。后来想起来她一年前还写过一篇英文版的搬家。贴上来做个比较。因为英文是她的母语，显然英文版好很多。

我试着把它翻译成中文，我的翻译水平有限，还真有些难度。

Rescuing Sunset

拯救晚霞

一串手印从车窗滑下，依旧新鲜，但很快消失在其他的手印中。我靠着车门，端详着它们，细细地数着每一个，我的哈气从车窗底升起。爸妈站在车外，争论着是否该把床垫放在车前面。他们争吵的声音让我耳鸣，要花太多精力才能听清楚他们下一句激烈的争吵。我没有兴趣，我侧过头再好好地看一下我生长了七年的房子。车外，天空染着淡淡的紫红和蜜色，暗示着又一个黄昏的到来。我在微笑。我生命中的每一天都看着晚霞。那是一个习惯，反射，像敲到你膝盖骨下面那个地方，你的腿会不由自主地踢出去。每天下午6：00, 我不自觉地盯着天空，面带微笑。可今天是我最后一次在这儿看晚霞。因为我害怕的那一天终于到来了：三月八号，这一天，我要和一切说再见。

事实上我们要搬到一个郊外小城，那里充斥着两样东西：山丘和地老鼠，人类的数目却只比零多一点点。一想到这点，我就不免担心我们都会变尼安德特尔人。一阵慌乱后我意识到，我其实并不是去送死。 我只不过是和文明说再见。我紧张地喘了口气，告诉我自己，我只不过是幻觉，是夸张。

 最后一次吸入新割的草坪的气息，我感觉好一点儿。饮入的气息让我想起我第一次上学前班，我揪着那件可爱的粉线衣上掉下来的一根线头，听到爸爸喊着：“迎接新战斗！”我笑着，觉得紧张地快要把刚喝的牛奶吐出来了。“啊。。。她都不知道什么意思！”妈妈一边踏进车里，一边说。：“走吧。不然我们学前班第一天就要迟到了!”在我钻进妈妈的黑色尼桑车前那一刻，最后闻到的就是那股刚割过的草坪的味道。

我们开出停车道时，天空染着薰衣草的淡紫色。“这是我们的最后一次了。”我对自己伤感地说。我盯着周围每一个细节，吸收每一样东西，试图将它们留在记忆里。“水泥是冷灰色的。”我默默地叨念着。“这两棵树会绽放美丽的白花。”我看着夹在我两腿中间的金鱼。它兴奋地游来游去，看着所有的新奇，它的蓝色和紫色的麟片掀起小小的波浪。幸运的鱼！它永远都不用搬家，不用感受着痛苦的乡愁。它只会记得他的鱼缸。叹息着，我再次把头转向车窗。现在，天空燃烧着华丽的红色，云彩镶着亮边，好像一张涨红着的脸，很难说是因为骄傲还是窘迫。那些树和草舞蹈着，一阵苦涩涌上我的喉咙。我想跑回我的房子，永远地留在那里。但是，我只是静静地盯着我的鱼。两滴眼泪掉到我的裤子上。擦掉眼泪，我告诉自己：“不要哭。一切都会好的。”自我安慰带来的却只是新一轮的眼泪。很快，我的视线模糊，开始抽泣。“噢，你怎么啦？”妈妈很担心地问。“为什么。。我们。。要。。。搬家？”我结巴着，我的话语不时被哽咽住。“其实，这都是为了你好。”她回答说。我点点头。可还是止不住地哭。我所熟悉的一切，我的朋友，邻居，我的学校。。。他们都没了。永远。

黄昏已过，我们到了新家。我想要回我的晚霞，我才能再笑起来。我知道即使离我的老屋很远，可我们还在同一片晚霞下。但只有黑暗，几乎无法看见。我的视线慢慢再次清晰，但我还是止不住地抽噎着。上百的蛐蛐突然齐声歌唱，它们和谐的声音互相交错。嗯。。。我皱着眉。我从来没听过蛐蛐儿的歌声，它却是想象不出的动听，几乎像催眠曲。我微笑着半闭着眼睛，随着音乐摇摆着爬上通向我们新的，禁房的楼梯。我父亲推开有我们两倍高的木头们，我的鼻子立刻因闻到空房子的味道而皱起来。我们家所有的家具都在前一天摆放好了。我们的脚步声在大理石地面上轻轻回响。粗粗的地毯无情的挠痒我的脚，我又爬上一层楼梯。楼上朦胧的光下我们都看得清楚一点，但还是觉得非常暗。我到了我的房间，房门在药柜的边上，我坐在我的床上。至少我的床还没变。我冲了个澡，刷了牙，换了衣服，一直流着眼泪。那晚，我哭着睡着了。

 融入新生活是我做过得最难的一件事。我再也没看到我曾热爱的晚霞，现在我们住在一个大大的，空空的房子里，没有一点特色，没有记忆。每一样东西都那么空洞，了无生气。我睡觉前唯一能听到的就是蛐蛐儿的叫声。有时很难入睡，因为我听不到疾驶过的车声，那从小到大一直被我忽略的声音。就好像听着电冰箱的噪声，你是那么习惯，但它突然停了。怎么这么安静？我觉得好奇怪，不适应，像是你第一双芭蕾鞋，就需要一些磨合。“对了。就需要些磨合。我就会觉得是家的感觉了。”每次想哭的时候，我这样告诉自己。

 白米饭。因为它煮着简单，我们吃了太多次，它不像做饺子或馄吞那么难。大约搬家一周以后。我转着筷子，我的头低到桌上，一点一点的吃着白米饭，没有理会任何菜。我第一百遍地叹着气，一点都不觉得饿。“吃你的饭！”我的小弟弟笑着对我叫着。他为什么在这种时候还笑得出来？我困惑。他可能根本不记得我们另外的房子是什么样的。转过身，我脸朝着墙，小声说，“我要上厕所。”一边使劲儿眨着眼睛，忍着眼泪。我跑进厕所，哭起来。我恨这个房子。我恨我的学校。说到底，我恨我自己。为什么我们要搬家？我吸着鼻子，从镜子里查看了自己，回到餐桌上把米饭一粒粒噎下。

“ Oh!嗨，看呐，晚霞！”一个月后的一天，我妈妈从客厅叫着。不可能。我想，但还是冲到客厅。真的有晚霞。我好像有几百年没见了。当太阳慢慢沉下山，那舞蹈着的颜色让我惊叹。我笑了，就在那个时刻，我知道我终于磨合了。我们家站在那儿好一会儿，当天黑下来，我们各自回去做自己的事情了。我妈妈继续照顾我的小弟弟，我爸爸继续查他的电邮，我回到我的作业上。大家都没再说什么，但我知道我们都比前一段时间感觉好多了。

从那以后，我慢慢的开始更多地微笑，大笑。我不再会藏在卫生间里哭，终于，蛐蛐儿的歌声听起来不再像葬礼进行曲，更像一个喜剧的终结曲。

一段时间以后，我们又回访了那个我热爱的蓝色的小屋。什么都没有改变，一阵乡愁洗刷过我。突然，我记起了搬家那天，我曾经觉得那样的不幸。不知为什么，我竟庆幸我们搬走了。我说：“好了，我们走吧。”就像我终将我的生活变迁了一样。

            A set of fingerprints trailed down the car window, still fresh, but quickly blending with the rest of the fingerprints. I leaned against the door to inspect them, closely counting each one, my breath fogging up the window pane. Standing outside, my parents were debating about whether or not to put the mattress in the front of the car. Their yelling hurt my ears, and it took too much effort to catch the next line of their heated discussion.  I didn’t really care, so I tilted my head to get the last good view of the house in which I had been living in for seven years. Outside, the sky was glowing a faint fuchsia and honey, hinting the beginning of another sunset. I smiled. I saw the sunset everyday of my life. It was a routine, a reaction, like when you tap the spot just below your kneecap and your leg kicks out. At 6:00 p.m., I would involuntarily stare at the sky with a smile on my face. However, today was the last day I would ever see the sunset here because the dreaded date had finally come: March 8, 2006, the day I said goodbye to everything.

                        Apparently, we were moving to some rural town inhabited by two things: hills, and gophers, while the human population consisted of a little more than zero. Just thinking of it made me imagine what would happen if we all turned into Neanderthals. A jolt of realization shuddered through me. I wasn’t just leaving my life. I was saying goodbye to civilization. I sighed nervously, and told myself that I was just hallucinating and that I was exaggerating.

            After inhaling the scent of fresh mowed lawns for the last time, I felt a little better. Drinking in the scent reminded me of when I was going to kindergarten. I was tugging on a loose thread from my vivaciously pink sweater while my dad was exclaiming: “Get your game face on!” I smiled nervously feeling that I would barf up the milk that I just drank. “Aww…she doesn’t even know what that means!” My mom said as she stepped into the car. “Come on. We’re going to be late for the first day of kindergarten!” The scent of freshly mowed lawns had also been the last thing I smelled before I climbed into my mom’s black Nissan on that long ago morning.

            The sky was tinted with lavender when we pulled out of the driveway. “This is the last time we are ever going to do this.” I thought to myself sorrowfully. I tried to make it memorable by staring at each detail, absorbing everything I could. “The cement is a cool gray.” I murmured quietly. “The two trees have magnificent white blooms.” I looked down. My goldfish sat in my lap; its blue and purple scales rippled as it swam around excitedly, staring at all the new wonders. What a lucky fish. It would never have to move, never have to experience the painful feeling of nostalgia. All it would remember was its tank. Sighing, I turned my head to face the window once again. Now, the sky was shimmering in a magnificent red, the clouds highlighted at the edges, as if it was flushing in pride or in embarrassment. It was hard to tell. The trees and the grass were dancing by as bitterness welled up in my throat. “How can you be dancing when I am so sad? Are you happy that I am leaving? Are you taunting me?” I wanted to scream. I wanted to run back to my house and stay there forever. But I stayed silent, staring at my fish. A couple drops of tears fell onto my pants. Wiping them away, I told myself, “Don’t cry. Everything is going to be okay.” My comforting, however, only brought around a round of fresh tears. Soon, my view became blurry and I started sobbing. “Oh… are you okay?” My mom asked with great concern. “Wh-y-y d-id w-w-we have to m-ove?” I stammered, my words distorted by an occasional hiccup. “Well…it’s for your benefit.” she replied. I nodded, but still continued crying. Everything I knew. My friends, neighbors, my school….They were really gone. Forever.

             The sunset was over now and we arrived at our new house. I wanted the sunset back, so I could smile again and realize that even though I was so far away, we were under the same sunset as my old house. But, it was dark and almost impossible to see. My sight was clear again, but I was still hiccupping madly. Hundreds of crickets erupted into song, their harmonious voices overlapping one another. Hmmm… I frowned. I had never heard the crickets’ song before, and it was beautiful beyond imagination, almost like a lullaby. I smiled with my eyes half closed swaying to the music as I climbed up the stairs that led to our new, forbidding house. My father pushed open the wooden door twice our height, and my nose immediately wrinkled at the smell of inoccupation. All our furniture already was placed there the day before, and our steps echoed softly on the marbled tiles. Rough carpet tickled my feet mercilessly as I climbed up another flight of stairs. There was a dim light so we could all see better, but it was still extremely dark. I reached my room, the door next to the medicine cabinet, and sat on my bed. At least my bed was still the same. I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and then changed, weeping all the time. That night, I cried myself to sleep.

            Adjusting to my new life was the hardest thing I had ever done. I could never see the sunset I used to love so much, and now we lived in a big, empty house with no character, and with no memories. Everything was so hollow and deprived of life. The only thing I could listen to falling asleep was the crickets’ chirping. Sometimes, it was impossible to fall asleep because I couldn’t hear the constant whoosh of cars which I grew up to ignore. It’s like listening to the grumble of your refrigerator, which you are so used to hearing, and then it suddenly stops. Doesn’t everything seem so silent? I felt so awkward, and out of place, like your first pair of point shoes that just need some breaking in. “That’s it. I just need some breaking in. I’ll feel right at home then.” I would tell myself whenever I was about to cry.

            White rice. We ate white rice so many times before because it was easy to cook, and it wasn’t as messy as making dumplings or wontons. It was around a week after moving day. I twirled around my chopsticks with my head on the table, eating them bit by bit, and not bothering to pick up any vegetables. I sighed for the millionth time, not feel hungry a bit. “EAT YOUR FOOD!” My baby brother laughed while screaming at me. How could he laugh at a time like this? I wondered to myself. He probably can’t even remember what our other house looked like. Turning, I faced a wall, and muttered, “I need to use the bathroom.” while blinking back tears. I ran into the bathroom and started crying. I hated this house. I hated my school. Most of all, I hated my life. Why did we have to move? I sniffled, checked myself in the mirror, and went back to choking down dinner grain by grain.

                      “Oh! Hey, look, it’s a sunset!” My mom called from the living room a month later. No way. I thought to myself, but I rushed to the living room anyway. There really was a sunset. I hadn’t seen one in centuries. I sighed as the dazzling colors danced when the sun slowly sank behind the hills. I smiled, and at that moment, I knew that I was finally starting to break in. Our family just stood there for a while, and when the sky darkened, we went back to doing. My mom resumed taking care of my little brother, my dad continued to check his email, and I went back to doing homework. No one said much, but I know we all felt better than we had in a while.

            After that, I slowly started to smile and laugh more. I wouldn’t hide in the bathroom and cry, and finally, the cricket’s song didn’t sound like a funeral march anymore. It sounded more like the ending song to a happy story.

             Some time later, we visited the blue cottage I loved so much. Nothing changed, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Suddenly, I remembered moving day, how I felt so wretched, and for some reason, I was glad we moved. “Come on. Let’s go.” I said. Just like how I moved my life.