爱的小纸条

It's been over eleven years now. It was a wintry afternoon, the snow swirling around the cedar trees outside, forcing little icicles to form at the tips of the deep green foliage clinging to the branches.

My older son, Stephen, was at school, and Reed, my husband, at work. My three little ones were clustered around the kitchen counter, the tabletop piled high with crayons and markers. Tom was perfecting a paper airplane, creating his own insignia with stars and stripes, while Sam worked on a self-portrait, his chubby hands drawing first a head, then legs and arms sticking out where the body should have been. The children mostly concentrated on their work, Tom occasionally tutoring his younger brother on exactly how to make a plane that would fly the entire length of the room.

But Laura, our only daughter, sat quietly, engrossed in her project. Every once in a while she would ask how to spell thenameof someoneinour family,then painstakingly form the letters one by one. Next, she would add flowers with small green stems, complete with grass lining the bottom of the page. She finished off each with a sun in the upper right hand corner, surrounded by an inch or two of blue sky. Holding them at eye level, she let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

"What are you making, Honey?" I asked.

She glanced at her brothers before looking back at me. "It's a surprise," she said, covering up her work with her hands.

Next, she taped the top two edges of each sheet of paper together, trying her best to create a cylinder. When she had finished, she disappeared up the stairs with her treasure.

It wasn't until later that evening that I noticed a "mailbox" taped onto the doors to each of our bedrooms. There was one for Steve. There was one for Tom. She hadn't forgotten Sam or baby Paul.

For the next few weeks, we received mail on a regular basis. There were little notes confessing her love for each of us. There were short letters full of tiny compliments that only a seven-year-old would notice. I was in charge of retrieving baby Paul's letters, page after page of colored scenes including flowers with happy faces.

"He can't read yet," she whispered, "But he can look at the pictures."

Each time I received one of my little girl's gifts, it brightened my heart.

I was touched at how carefully she observed our moods. When Stephen 1ost a baseball game, there was a letter telling him she thought he was the best ballplayer in the whole world. After I had a particularly hard day, there was a message thanking me for my efforts, complete with a smile face tucked near the bottom corner of the page.

This same little girl is grown now, driving off every day to the community college. But some things about her have never changed. One afternoon only a week or so ago, I found a love note next to my bedside.

"Thanks for always being there for me, Mom," it read, "I'm glad that we're the best of friends."

I couldn't help but remember the precious child whose smile has brought me countless hours of joy throughout the years. There are angels among us. I know, I live with one.

11年前，那是一个寒冬的下午。窗外，大片的雪花绕着雪松盘旋飞舞，枝头深绿色的叶尖上挂着小小的冰柱。

我的大儿子史蒂芬去上学了，丈夫里德去上班了，三个小孩挤在厨柜旁，桌面上堆积着蜡笔和记号笔，汤姆正用星星和条纹画徽章，为纸飞机做漂亮的装饰。山姆正忙着自画像，他胖呼呼的小手先画下了一个头，然后在本该画身体的位置画了腿和胳膊。孩子们都全神贯注地忙着手上的活，汤姆不时地告诉弟弟怎样正确地制作一架能够穿行于整间房子的飞机。

我们唯一的女儿劳拉静静地坐在那里，聚精会神地忙着她的事。偶尔她也会问及如何拼写我们家庭某成员的名字，然后极为困难地逐个字母拼写出来。接着，她画了一些有着嫩绿小茎的花朵，在纸张的底部添些草边，每完成一页，她都会在右上角处画一片蓝天，中间是太阳。然后把它们举到眼前欣赏一番，心满意足地长舒了一口气。

“宝贝，你干什么呢？”我问道。

看我之前她瞥了一眼她的兄弟们。

“这是一个惊喜。”她双手捂住了作品。

接着，她把每张纸的上下两边粘贴起来，尽量做成一个圆筒。做好后，她带着那些宝贝消失在楼梯上。

直到深夜我才发现，每间卧室的门上都贴着一个“邮箱”。史蒂夫一个，汤姆一个，连山姆和小保罗也没忘了。

之后的几周内，我们会定期收到信件。她对我们每个人的爱都通过这小小的纸条表达了，这些短信满是一个年仅7岁的孩子纯真的问候。小保罗的信件由我负责拆阅，那是一页一页的彩色图画，其中有花朵，也有欢乐的笑靥。

“他还不识字，”她喃喃自语道，“但他能看这些图画。”

每次收到小女儿的礼物，我沉闷的心就豁然开朗。

她对我们心情体察细微令我颇受感动，史蒂芬输了棒球赛后，便收到一封信，她认为他是世界上最好的棒球手。某天我感觉特别劳累时，便会收到一封信，对我的努力表示感谢，信纸角下还附有一个笑脸。

如今，那个小女孩已经长大，每天开车上社区学院。但是有些事情她一直都没有改变。大概就在一周前的一个下午，我在枕边发现了一张爱的纸条。

“妈妈，感谢您一如既往地支持我，”上面写着，“我为有您这样的好朋友而感到高兴。”

我情不自禁地想起，多年以来，这个可爱孩子的笑容曾带给我无尽的欢乐。人间确有天使，我知道，我正幸运地与其中一位生活在一起。