下载掌阅APP，畅读海量书库
立即打开
Esmeralda Santiago
That Christmas Eve, the streets of Boston were clogged with tourists and locals bundled in wool and flannel. Shoppers, hawkers, and gawkers whirled and swirled around me. “ Frosty the Snowman ”, “ Let It Snow ” and “ Jingle Bells ” played in stores; on the sidewalks, the street musicians did their best. Everyone, it seemed, was accompanied by someone else smiling or laughing. I was alone.
The eldest of a Puerto Rican family of 11 children growing up in New York's crowded tenements, I’d spent much of my life seeking solitude. Now, finally, at 27, a college student in the midst of a drawn-out breakup of a seven-year relationship, I contemplated what I’d so craved, but I wasn't quite sure I liked it. Every part of me wanted to be alone, but not at Christmas.
My family had returned to Puerto Rico, my friends had gone home during the holiday break, and my acquaintances were involved in their own lives. Dusk was falling, and the inevitable return to my empty apartment brought tears to my eyes. Blinking lights from windows and around doors beckoned, and I wished someone would emerge from one of those homes to ask me inside to a warm room with a Christmas tree decorated with tinsel, its velvet skirt sprinkled with shiny fake snow and wrapped presents.
I stopped at the local market, feeling even more depressed as people filled their baskets with goodies. Dates and dried figs, walnuts, pecans, and hazelnuts in their shells reminded me of the gifts we received as children in Puerto Rico on Christmas Day, because the big gifts were given on the morning of the Feast of the Epiphany, on January 6. I missed my family: their rambunctious parties; the dancing; the mounds of rice with pigeon peas; the crusty, garlicky skin on the pork roast; the plantain and yucca pasteles wrapped in banana leaves. I wanted to cry for wanting to be alone and for having achieved it.
In front of the church down the street, a manger had been set up, with Mary, Joseph, and the barn animals in expectation of midnight and the arrival of baby Jesus. I stood with my neighbors watching the scene, some of them crossing themselves, praying. As I walked home, I realized that the story of Joseph and Mary wandering from door to door seeking shelter was much like my own history. Leaving Puerto Rico was still a wound in my soul as I struggled with who I had become in 15 years in the United States. I’d mourned the losses, but for the first time, I recognized what I’d gained. I was independent, educated, healthy, and adventurous. My life was still before me, full of possibility.
Sometimes the best gift is the one you give yourself. That Christmas, I gave myself credit for what I’d accomplished so far and permission to go forward, unafraid. It is the best gift I've ever received, the one that I most treasure.
那年圣诞前夕，波士顿的街道上满是熙熙攘攘的游客，当地人裹着羊毛和法兰绒打扮得光鲜靓丽。购物者、小贩和路人把我围在中间。商店里播放着《结霜的雪人》《下雪吧》和《铃儿响叮当》；人行道上，街头音乐家卖力地表演着。看起来似乎每个人都有人陪伴，脸上绽放出幸福的笑容。只有我是独自一人。
我家是一个波多黎各大家庭，一共有11个孩子，我是家里的长子，我们从小生活在纽约城拥挤的租住房里。在一生的大部分时间，我都在寻求片刻的孤独。此时此刻，终于，我这个27岁的大学生，结束了一段7年的漫长恋情，得到了我想要的孤独，可我却并不觉得开心。我想一个人静一静，但不是在圣诞节这样的日子。
我的家人已经回到了波多黎各，我的朋友都在假期回家了，我认识的人都忙于自己的生活。夜幕降临，想着还得回到那空荡荡的宿舍，眼泪就涌了出来。城市住家的灯火点亮起来，从门窗透出的闪烁灯光仿佛在召唤着我，我多希望有人会打开房门，邀请我走进那温暖的房间，房间一角是一株圣诞树，圣诞彩条将它装饰得绚烂华丽，天鹅绒的树摆上点缀着闪亮的人造雪花和包装好的礼物。
我在集市边停下脚步，看到人们提着装满美食的篮子，心中感到更加沮丧。椰枣、无花果干、核桃和山核桃，还有带壳的榛子，让我想起小时候在波多黎各收到的圣诞礼物——1月6日主显节上午，我们才能收到圣诞大礼。我想念我的家人：想念他们喧闹的派对，想念他们多姿的舞蹈，想念香喷喷的木豆米饭，想念烤乳猪的蒜味脆皮，想念芭蕉叶包裹的大蕉丝兰根。我得到了我想要的孤独，却忍不住想哭。
在街道尽头的教堂前，布置好了一条马槽，玛丽、约瑟夫和马厩里的动物们都在期待着午夜到来，耶稣降临。我和邻居站在那里看着这幅场景，有些人手画十字、低头祈祷。在回家路上，我意识到，约瑟夫和玛丽挨家挨户寻求庇护的故事，就如同我自己的经历。离开波多黎各始终是我心头难以化解的伤痛，我一直在想，15年的美国生活让我变成了一个什么样的人。我本应为我所失去的感到悲伤，但那一刻，我第一次认识到我获得了什么。我是一个独立的、受过良好教育的、健康的、富有冒险精神的青年。我的生活就在我的面前，充满了无尽的可能性。
有时候，你送给自己的礼物才是最好的礼物。那年圣诞节，我送给自己的是肯定和许诺，肯定自己过去的努力，许诺自己奋勇向前，无所畏惧。这是我收到的最好的礼物，我最珍惜的圣诞礼物。
【名人语库】
Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.
【Kierkergaard】
只有向后才能理解生活；但要生活好，则必须向前看。
【克尔凯郭尔（丹麦哲学家）】