七美元的梦想（4）
《美丽英文》作者：方雪梅 2017-04-14 12:47
七美元的梦想（4）
The years seemed to run more swiftly then. And by the time my sisters graduated, I found myself in the first-violin chair.
Two years later, I graduated. I packed my cherished violin in its case and stepped into the grown-up world. Nurse’s training, marriage, working in the hospital, rearing four daughters filled my years.
More years passed. My violin made every move with us, and I unpacked-briefly remembering how much I still loved it and promising myself to play it soon.
None of my children cared about the violin. Later, one by one, they married and left home....
Now here I was with the newspaper want ads. I forced my thoughts to the present and read again the ad that had transported me back to childhood memories. Laying aside the paper, I murmured, “I must find my violin.”
I discovered the case deep in the recesses of my closet. Opening the lid, I lifted the violin from where it nestled on the rose-velvet lining. My fingers caressed its golden wood. I tuned the strings, miraculously6 still intact, tightened the bow, and put rosin on the dry horsehairs.
And then my violin began to sing again those favorite tunes that had never left my memory. How long I played I’ll n
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The years seemed to run more swiftly then. And by the time my sisters graduated, I found myself in the first-violin chair.
Two years later, I graduated. I packed my cherished violin in its case and stepped into the grown-up world. Nurse’s training, marriage, working in the hospital, rearing four daughters filled my years.
More years passed. My violin made every move with us, and I unpacked-briefly remembering how much I still loved it and promising myself to play it soon.
None of my children cared about the violin. Later, one by one, they married and left home....
Now here I was with the newspaper want ads. I forced my thoughts to the present and read again the ad that had transported me back to childhood memories. Laying aside the paper, I murmured, “I must find my violin.”
I discovered the case deep in the recesses of my closet. Opening the lid, I lifted the violin from where it nestled on the rose-velvet lining. My fingers caressed its golden wood. I tuned the strings, miraculously6 still intact, tightened the bow, and put rosin on the dry horsehairs.
And then my violin began to sing again those favorite tunes that had never left my memory. How long I played I’ll n