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白天黑夜

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白天黑夜范文第1篇

At 22, David was a novelist just starting his career, and I knew if I framed my 2)plight as poetic, he’d find it irresistible, at least on a narrative level. So lying next to him in the dark, I told the story like a Gothic novel.

I started with how, three years earlier, at 19, I realized I couldn’t see the stars at night. This seemed like an innocent enough detail until it turned out to be the first symptom of an incurable 3)degenerative 4)retinal disease. The doctor told me I would slowly lose my eyesight over the next 10 to 15 years―first my nighttime and 5)peripheral vision, and later, my central vision, too.

I ended on a high note: Losing my vision, I explained, was teaching me to really see. I would go blind with a bang, not a whimper, by seeing and doing more in the next decade than most people did in a lifetime.

All true, but only part of the story. The pretty part.

Our romance was still new, and I was nervous about how he would react to my disclosure. His response, though, was as grand and poetic as the story itself.

The next time we met, he wore my name on his arm. Six lowercase letters stained the skin, 6)indelibly. As I admired the tattoo, he told me I had lit his darkness and he would light mine. No matter what came, he said, we would face it together. He was all in.

I met David during our last semester in college, where we were both English and theater majors. I liked that he was smart but not 7)pretentious, funny but never mean. There was solidity to him and it made me feel safe for the first time since my diagnosis.

He was a small-town Southern boy, who had always dreamed of living in California but was never ready to take the plunge―until I took it with him.

In Los Angeles, David helped me with my acting auditions and I edited his manuscripts.

On weekends we lowered the top on his beat-up 8)convertible and drove up the Pacific Coast Highway, music blaring. The golden hills looked like the backs of sleeping lions, we agreed. David drove for hours, one-handed, because the other hand was melded to mine.

Our life together was a grand romance, and my 9)encroaching blindness was more blessing than curse, because it 10)galvanized us to live with urgency. The blindness was poetic because it hadn’t happened yet.

In reality, it’s tedious, draining, messy. It changes you in surprising ways, some positive and some not. It’s a lot like the reality of being married.

Ten years after David had my name tattooed on his arm, our story felt less like a Gothic love story than a Raymond Carver story: doomed in the most 11)quotidian way. Ten years in, on my 33rd birthday, I found myself sobbing alone on a stoop in Brooklyn.

I had quit acting because I could no longer navigate the dark stages and sets. We had moved back to Brooklyn, my hometown, because my driving had become untenable. We had gotten married and had a son, a long, lithe baby with 12)beestung eyes.

I was 13)elated I could discern these details, and just as overjoyed to see the round cheeks and bowed lips of my newborn daughter two years later. I watched the color of their eyes deepen into blue, and seeing these changes 14)suffused me with gratitude. But I was suffused, too, with fear.

The year of our daughter’s birth marked the 10-year anniversary of my diagnosis, and by then I had lost enough sight to be deemed legally blind. My eyesight had closed in like the 15)aperture on a camera, leaving me with extreme tunnel vision.

I constantly 16)collided into people and things: monkey bars, fire hydrants, cabinet doors left ajar. I developed 17)cataracts that made it difficult for me to fill out forms at the pediatrician’s office or, really, read anything at all.

I had been so busy making the most of my vision that I hadn’t prepared myself for losing it. I never spoke of my disease, not even to the few people who knew about it.

My confidence had taken a hit, too. I gave up wearing heels because I fell in them, gave up eyeliner because I couldn’t put it on straight, gave up reading because I couldn’t make out the print. I felt like I wasn’t just losing my sight but essential parts of what made me me.

Because I had no other resources in place for support, the 18)onus fell to David, who became my 19)surreptitious seeing-eye guy. All of that, in addition to the typical strains of raising two young children, was taxing on a marriage.

On my 33rd birthday, David and I splurged on a sitter and planned a dinner out with friends. I spent an hour applying makeup in a magnifying mirror, only to have David observe it was a little, um, uneven. He gifted me an Anne Lamott book I couldn’t read.

On the walk to the restaurant, we reopened the debate about whether or not to have a third child.

I wanted to but was terrified I wouldn’t be able to take care of the baby with my failing vision. David told me he would follow my lead, but he didn’t see how we would possibly make it work. Our resources (money, time, and yes, vision) were already so limited.

Halfway to the restaurant, our discussion developed into an argument, which ended with David storming off and telling me to go to the party without him. I stopped in my tracks, crumpled onto the nearest stoop and sobbed.

I wasn’t helpless. I could find my way home. But I couldn’t go to the party without him. I couldn’t see well enough to find my friends or read the menu. I needed David and he resented it and I resented his resentment.

I remembered how I had told him I would go blind with a bang, not a whimper, and how he had promised we would always be together in darkness and in light. It seemed like we’d both been wrong.

Some minutes later, David’s big brown boots, the ones I always tripped over when he left them by the door, stepped into frame.

“You can’t just leave me,” I said, “I need you.”

“I know,” he said.

“I hate it.”

“So do I.”

Then he took my hand and said we’d figure it out.

Not long after my birthday, I called the New York State Commission for the Blind, which taught me how to use a mobility cane and adaptive technology. I got a magnifier so I didn’t need David to measure the children’s 20)Tylenol or adjust the 21)thermostat. I read the Anne Lamott book, easily enlarged on the e-reader David gave me for Christmas.

I reclaimed many abilities I had lost and started to make peace with what I had to let go.

A year later, David took me to dinner and said he had something to tell me. His face was hazy in the candlelight, but I could see his mouth breaking into a smile.

“I think we should have another baby,” he said.

I blinked. “But what about ―”

David took my hand and cut me off: “We’ll figure it out.”

He spoke with the same certainty that made him tattoo my name on his arm so long ago. His faith bred faith in me. We would have another child, and it would be hard and spectacular, and we would be in it together.

要告诉新男友自己眼睛将会瞎掉,这没有什么好办法可言。我从所有的糟糕办法中选了个最好的。

戴维22岁时刚开始写小说,我知道如果我以诗意的方式来描绘这个困境,他会被迷住的,至少叙述方式让他着迷。因此,我在黑暗中躺在他身边,把我的故事说得像哥特式的小说一样。

我是这样开始讲述的,三年前,19岁,我发现我晚上看不见星星。这看起来是个很微不足道的细节,但其实是不可治愈的视网膜退化疾病的初始症状。医生说我会在10至15年内逐渐丧失视力――首先是夜间视力和周边视觉,然后就是中央视觉。

我以积极的态度来结束这个故事:我是这样描述的,失去视力教会我真正地用眼睛去看。我要在振奋雷鸣中瞎掉,不要在软弱哭泣中瞎掉,我要在这十年里看更多的东西,比大多数人一生所看的都要多。

那都是真的,但只是故事的一部分,美好的部分。

我们才刚开始恋爱,我很紧张,想知道他会对我的坦白作何反应。他的回应大方而有诗意,恰似故事本身那样。

我们下次见面时,他把我的名字写在了他的手臂上。六个擦洗不掉的小写字母印刻在皮肤上。我欣赏着这个纹身时,他说我照亮了他的黑夜,而他也会照亮我的黑夜。他说不管发生什么事情,我们都会一起面对。他会一直在我身边。

我在大学的最后一个学期认识戴维,我们都是英语和戏剧专业的学生。我喜欢他因为他聪明而不显摆,幽默而不刻薄。他的坚定让我在确诊后首次有了安全感。

他在一个南方小城镇长大,一直想居住在加利福尼亚州,但一直没下决心――直到我和他一起跨出这一步。

在洛杉矶,戴维帮我通过试镜,我为他整理稿子。

周末,我们把他那辆破旧的敞篷车车顶打开,开上太平洋海岸高速路,大声播放着音乐。我们都觉得,金黄色的山看起来就像沉睡着的狮子的背部。戴维单手开了好几个小时的车,另一只手紧握着我的手。

我们在一起的生活非常浪漫,渐渐逼近的失明给我们更多的是祝福,而不是诅咒,因为它激励我们珍惜现在的生活。失明很有诗意,只因为它还没发生。

实际的情况就是乏味、令人疲倦、混乱。它以让人吃惊的方式改变你,有些改变是好的,有些则是坏的。这与现实中的婚姻很相似。

戴维把我的名字文在手臂上的十年后,与哥特式爱情小说相比,我们的故事更接近雷蒙德・卡佛的小说风格――以最普通的方式消逝。第十年,我33岁生日那天,我在布鲁克林的门廊上独自抽泣。

我放弃了表演,因为我已不能在漆黑的舞台和设备中辨认方位。我们搬回了我的家乡布鲁克林, 因为我开车很不安全。我们结婚了,有一个儿子,天真活泼,眼睛又大又圆。

我很高兴我能分辨出这些细节,两年后我女儿出生,我也很兴奋看到了她圆圆的脸颊和弯弯的嘴唇。我看着他们眼睛深处的蓝色,看见这些变化让我充满了感激。但我同时也充满了恐惧。

我女儿出生那年正是我确诊十周年的时候,那时候我的视力衰退严重,被认定为失明。我的视力像摄像机的孔径般缩小,只剩下极弱的孔状视力。

我常常撞向人或其他东西:单杠、消防栓、打开的柜门。我还患上了白内障,这让我难以在儿科医生的办公室里填写表格,其实是根本看不到表格上的字。

我一直忙于尽可能多地利用自己的视力,而没有做好失去视力的准备。我从不向别人提起我的病,包括那些本来就略知一二的人。

我的自信心也少了,我不再穿高跟鞋因为我会摔跤,不画眼线因为我画不直,不看书因为我看不见印刷字体。我感觉我不仅仅是失去了视力,还失去了生活中的重要部分。

由于我没有其他外界的帮助,这个责任就落到了戴维头上,他成了我隐秘的眼睛。所有这一切,还有抚养两个小孩的常见压力,都依靠着一场婚姻来维持。

我33岁生日那天,戴维和我奢侈了一把,请了一位临时保姆,准备和朋友外出吃晚餐。我花了一个小时在一面放大镜前化妆,但戴维却看出来有点不对称。他送了我一本安・拉莫特的书,但我读不了。

我们在步行至饭店的路上又讨论了是否要第三个孩子。

我想要但又害怕我因视力逐渐衰退而不能照顾好婴儿。戴维说他听我的,但似乎很难做到,我们的资源(钱、时间、还有视力)很有限。

半路上,我们的讨论发展成了争吵,最后,戴维怒气冲冲地走了,让我自己去聚餐。我停下来,蜷缩在最近的门廊上,独自抽泣。

我并非感到无助,我可以自己回家。但我不能独自参加聚餐,我看不清我的朋友在哪,看不清菜单。我需要戴维,他讨厌这一点,而我为他的不满感到生气。

我记得我跟他说过我要在振奋中瞎掉,不要在哭泣中瞎掉,他也说过不管是黑夜还是白天,我们永远在一起。我们似乎都错了。

几分钟后,戴维那双棕色大靴子――他放在门口时我常常被它们绊倒,出现在我的视线中。

“你不能就那样走掉,”我说,“我需要你。”

“我知道,”他说。

“我讨厌这样。”

“我也是。”

然后他握着我的手说,我们会想办法解决的。

生日过后,我致电纽约盲人委员会,他们教我如何使用移动手杖和适应技巧。我使用了放大器后就不需要戴维来量孩子们吃泰诺的量和调温度调节器了。我用戴维送我的圣诞礼物――电子阅读器,可以轻松地阅读安・拉莫特的书。

我重新获得了很多失去了的能力,并开始平和地看待我不得不失去的东西。

一年后,戴维带我外出晚餐时说要告诉我一件事。他的脸在灯光下很模糊,但我能看到他的嘴在微笑。

“我想我们应该再要一个孩子,”他说。

我眨了眨眼睛。“但――”

白天黑夜范文第2篇

今天早上起来,天还是灰色的。可是上学以后,天不知怎么就慢慢变黑了,黑的什么都看不见了。白天变成了黑夜,还下起了倾盆大雨。这样的天气,我们都误认为是黑夜。没睡熟的人都想睡觉了。天上的雷公公“咚咚”地敲起了大鼓,雨一会儿停一会儿下。

街道上的雨水成了海的源头。校门外的水很深,大人下去大腿都湿了。我想既然成小河了,里面一定有小鱼和青蛙吧。可惜哦水太深,妈妈不让我走,抱我上了车,要不我一定会看个明白。

我很是奇怪怎么白天就成了黑夜的情景呢?

白天黑夜范文第3篇

小镇的人都知道,邓康家条件不好:10岁那年,邓康的父亲走了;15岁那年,母亲又没了工作。高一没有念完,邓康不愿意念书了,不是不喜欢念书,是他不忍看母亲太苦。辍学不久,邓康买回一辆自行车,第二天,他骑着自行车去了雪糕厂。炎热的中午,大家都在家休息,邓康还推着自行车,车后面驮着装雪糕的泡沫箱子。“卖雪糕■,卖雪糕■”……踩在发热的街上,邓康这样吆喝。

一天傍晚,河边来了几个女孩。其中的一个女孩,看起来格外娇小,皮肤也白得很好看。女孩们拿着救生圈,像群唧唧喳喳的麻雀,扑通扑通跳下水。远远看着这群女孩,水中的邓康在心里直乐。没有一个女孩熟悉游泳,尤其那个娇小的女孩。晚霞满天的夕阳下,只见她抱着救生圈,两条腿乱蹬,蹬起大片大片水花。

没多久,女孩们发现了邓康。呃,看什么看,没看过女孩游泳!那个娇小的女孩大声冲邓康喊。女孩的声音十分清脆,非常动听。邓康的脸一红,他刚准备游开,娇小的女孩又大声喊:呃,你过来,过来教我们游泳。

女孩叫许微。名师出高徒,也许真应了这句话,一个星期不到,许微的游泳技术大有长进。她已经会一双手两条腿在水里乱打,借着这股力量在水里浮段距离。她这样打时,邓康喜欢在许微溅起的漫天水花中笑。邓康说:你游泳的样子,总让我想起垂死挣扎的鱼。许微会这样抗议邓康:去去去,你见过这样漂亮的鱼吗?

跟许微熟了,才知道许微家在市里,她也在市里念大学。许微有个在小镇工作的亲戚,她这是来亲戚家度假的。听到大学,邓康的心情有些黯淡。读书的时候,他成绩不错,要不是家里条件不好,他应该也念大学了。心情黯淡归黯淡,有事没事,邓康还是向许微打听跟大学有关的事情:大学的图书馆,是不是很大很宽敞?图书馆的书,是不是任学生借出来看?大学的男女学生,是不是真像电视里那样,恋爱得又自由又大胆?……

得知邓康每天去雪糕厂,许微对雪糕厂也很好奇:你知道雪糕是怎么做出来的吗?

2时间过得真快,仿佛眨眼工夫,暑假便过去了。临走的时候,许微说:等着我,我寒假还来度假。就因为这句话,时间在邓康的世界里,一下子又过得慢了……

等寒假终于来到,邓康早已经不卖雪糕了。早晨的时候,小镇的人还没起床,他已经推着自行车在街上吆喝:“卖包子■,卖包子■。”没错,他的自行车后的泡沫箱里,现在装的是热气腾腾的包子。

许微没有食言,寒假才开始几天,一个格外冷清的早上,突然有人在背后叫住邓康:呃,卖包子的,给我来两个包子。邓康心里一凛,急颠颠回过头。站在他身后的,果然是许微。

卖完包子,许微常逼着邓康带她去河边玩。河里的水已经结了冰。邓康常捡起河边的小泥块,巧妙地将小泥块朝冰上抛。这一手抛泥块的功夫,邓康已经练得很好。十个小泥块,总有九个能被他抛得贴着冰,一路飞奔。许微自然不服气,她觉得这很简单,只是她抛出去的泥块,十块有十一块,笨笨地掉在冰上。

这年冬天,老天下了场雪。那场雪下得真大,整个镇子仿佛被雪淹没了。许微不知有多兴奋,邓康的包子没卖完,她扯着邓康,死活让邓康陪她打雪仗。邓康当然不答应,他卖一天包子,赚的钱够他和母亲花几天。许微便赖皮了,不管邓康答不答应,抓起地上的雪,一把向邓康砸来,砸在邓康的额头上、鼻梁上、嘴唇边……

等到许微再来镇上度假,便是第二年的夏天。一个暖和的下午,邓康陪许微去河边散步。走着走着,许微突然转过身说:呃,我有个问题,答对了奖你一个Kiss。邓康的心跳了一跳。邓康没有说话,不过他很想对许微说:其实我也有问题问你,你知不知道,为什么每年我都盼着暑假和寒假快些来到?

寒假结束,许微要走了。骑着自行车,邓康送许微去汽车站。直到开往市里的汽车就要启动,许微才从车窗后探出头,大声告诉邓康:呃,你听着,我每年来这里度假,其实是为了看你。

3第三年夏天,邓康没见到许微。夏天开始不久,每天进门出门,邓康的眼睛会忍不住朝墙上的挂历瞟。时间过得真慢。等临近暑假,时间便越加慢了。邓康在街上卖雪糕,老喜欢回头看。只是他回了无数次头,没有一次回头,他会在背后看到许微。

半个月后,邓康去了许微的亲戚家。亲戚说,许微不会来了,前段时间,他给许微家打电话,许微和父母正计划去香港度假……临走之前,邓康问亲戚要了许微家的电话。见不到许微,听听她的声音也好呀。

那时候,小镇的电话不多,总共两三部吧。就是打往市里的电话,也要两块钱一分钟。邓康犹豫了,两块钱他得卖多少根雪糕呀。不过邓康还是打了电话。遗憾的是,是个陌生女人接的电话。她告诉邓康,许微和她父母一个星期前去了香港,而这个女人是许微家做清洁卫生的钟点工。

再见许微,天气便冷了。一年不见,许微仿佛更加白了。

夏天的香港之行,也许给许微留下很深的印象。常常说着说着,许微会将话题突然转到香港。香港的铜锣湾,香港的维多利亚港,香港的马路,香港的风景……香港面前,邓康不知道说什么才好。让他说什么呢?长这么大,他没有出过远门。

寒假眼看结束。一天晚上,邓康和许微一起,坐在许微亲戚家的电视机前。电视里的男主角非常矛盾,是和心上人归隐山林,还是一个人留在江湖继续闯荡,男主角不知如何取舍。看完电视,许微送邓康出来。邓康问许微:如果你是男主角,你会选择归隐,还是继续闯荡?许微一愣,然后她笑嘻嘻说:我当然选择闯荡,因为我从没出去闯荡过。邓康没有出声,他心里的答案是:只要和喜欢的人一起,外面的世界再精彩,他也会选择归隐。

4第四个夏天,夏天还没到来,一个机会摆在邓康面前。有个在镇上开厂的熟人,一眼看中邓康的朴实勤奋,想让邓康去他的小厂做事,邓康拒绝了。其实邓康不想拒绝,他不能卖一辈子雪糕,只是想到要工作了他和许微在一起的时间总是不能长久……邓康暗暗在心里打起小算盘,他只要再卖一段时间雪糕,等许微开始工作,不管许微在哪工作,也不管那里生活多不容易,他也会朝着许微工作的城市直奔……

突然接到许微的电话,夏天其实没开始多久。邓康家当然没有电话。许微跟公用电话亭认识邓康的人约好,让他第二天去接电话。接通电话,许微第一句话说:你赶紧来市里吧,我现在想见你。邓康一喜,不过他很快一惊。和许微相处,许微从来不是直接的人。他的脑子飞快转圈,而且尽往不好的方向旋转。事实证明,邓康不是杞人忧天的人。许微告诉邓康,去年的香港之行,给她父母留下了极深的印象,他们已经为许微办好一切手续,铺好所有道路,只等许微傍晚动身,赶往香港的一家公司上班……邓康忍不住打断许微:那,那你愿不愿意去香港上班?许微的声音一下子小了,许微说:我愿意。

见到许微,已经是下午三四点钟。许微穿套米白色的棉布套裙,站在市汽车站出站口。那套裙子真白,它在夏日午后的阳光里,灼灼打着邓康的眼睛。邓康突然就有点手足无措,不知说什么好,也不知该不该向许微靠近。

从汽车站出来,邓康走在许微身后。不知跟了多久,许微突然回过头说:行了,要不你回去吧,一个小时后,我就要坐车赶往机场,然后从机场飞往香港。

邓康迟疑着没有行动。其实他心里有无数的话,不知如何用言语表达。迟疑了一阵,他终于问许微:从机场到香港,大概要多长时间?许微说:我也不知道确切时间,要几个小时吧。

说完话,许微便转过身,果断地往她的方向走。邓康也转过身,径直向市汽车站走。也不知走了多久,邓康忍不住回头,却看见许微也在回头。视线与邓康在空中相撞,许微便慌张地转过头,仿佛还抬起一只手,擦了擦她的眼睛……

回来的路上,不知怎么回事,邓康哭了。

很久,邓康止住了眼泪。他的人生仿佛在一瞬间长大,他也在这个长大的过程中明白了许多……从他生活的小镇到香港,也许不需要多少时间,可是他生活的小镇和香港,毕竟是两个世界,这两个世界就像他和许微,就像黑夜和白天……

5这年夏天,邓康还是走进了那个熟人办的小厂。

白天黑夜范文第4篇

只在黎明混着夜色时

才有浅浅重叠的片刻

白天和黑夜只交替没交换

无法想像对方的世界

我们仍坚持各自等在原地

把彼此站成两个世界

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

像永恒燃烧的太阳

不懂那月亮的盈缺

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

不懂那星星为何会坠跌

白天和黑夜只交替没交换

无法想像对方的世界

我们仍坚持各自等在原地

把彼此站成两个世界

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

像永恒燃烧的太阳

不懂那月亮的盈缺

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

不懂那星星为何会坠跌

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

像永恒燃烧的太阳

不懂那月亮的盈缺

你永远不懂我伤悲

像白天不懂夜的黑

不懂那星星为何会坠跌

不懂我伤悲

白天黑夜范文第5篇

生活好似幕布遮掩着的舞台。掀开,是白天;落下,就是黑夜。

而我们,是舞台上会动的生灵。疲倦却不知休止。

黑与白,成了舞台最终的色彩。

不管曾经,如何璀璨与辉煌,都不过是胶片中瞬间的定格。最终也都淡了在记忆的流里。

黑和白规律的替换,生命也在毫不迟疑的流逝。抓不住也留不下。

而我们兀自感叹着的青葱岁月,在摩挲粗糙而深陷的纹路里,一去不复返了。

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