和多年老友重聚 这种感觉真好

old friends. they finish your sentences, they remember the cat that ran away when you were twelve, and they tell you the truth when you’ve had a bad haircut. but mostly, they are always there for you—whether it’s in person or via late night phone calls—through good times and bad. but as the years pass, it becomes increasingly difficult to see each other, to make new memories. fortunately, my high school girlfriends and i vowed long ago not to let this happen. we vowed to he reunions. 老朋友。他们会接完你没说完的句子，他们记得在你十二岁时跑掉的那只猫，如果你剪了一个很糟糕的发型，他们会跟你说实话。但主要的是，不论是在美好抑或糟糕的日子里，他们总会在你身边——或是面对面交流，或是深夜与你通电话。但是随着年月流逝，彼此越来越难见到对方，也越来越难新的回忆了。幸运的是，很早以前，我与我的一帮高中女友们曾立下誓言不让这样的事发生。我们许诺一定要重聚。 a few months ago, we met up for a three-day weekend in the american southwest. we grew up together in maine and he said for years that we should he an annual event, yet it’s often postponed or canceled due to schedule conflicts. not this year. 几个月前的一个周末，我们在美国西南部聚了三天。我们一起在缅因州长大，这几年来一直都在说我们应该有个一年一度的聚会，但通常都因为日程计划冲突而延迟或取消。今年终于如愿了。 four of us-two from san francisco, one from boston, and one from seattle-boarded planes bound for santa fe, new mexico, where one of the gang lives and works for an art gallery. two years ago, she moved there-escaped, rather-from the film industry in new york city, where she led a life that felt too fast, too unfulfilling. the artist in her longed for vibrant landscapes and starry moonlit skies. she wanted to drive a truck on dusty roads, a trusty dog at her side, riding shotgun. she got all that and found love, too. she is happy. 我们一行四人——两个来自旧金山，一个来自波士顿，还有一个来自西雅图——登上了飞往新墨西哥州圣菲的航班。我们这帮人中有一个住在圣菲，为那里的一家画廊工作。两年前，她搬到那里——更准确地说是从纽约的电影业中——逃离出来。她当时觉得在纽约生活节奏太快，太没有成就感。她那艺术家的本性向往生机盎然的自然景致和繁星点缀的月夜。她希望能在尘土飞扬的路上着卡车，有只忠诚的狗坐在前排的乘客座位，陪伴她左右。这一切都实现了，她还找到了爱情。她是幸福快乐的。 the rest of us-still big city folks-converged on her like a cyclone straight out of the pages of a girlfriend novel. chattering and memory swapping, we were fifteen again in a space of five minutes. naturally, we relived some of the stories of our youth-angst and all-but we also brought much more to the gathering this time. we were new people. we were wives and girlfriends to someone back home. we were businesswomen, artists and writers. we were no longer girls, no longer post-college grads. we were women. 我们其余几人——仍然是大城市居民——像是从女性小说的页面中直接跳出来的一股旋风似地向她袭去。我们聊天、分享回忆，仿佛在短短的五分钟内又重返十五岁。我们自然而然地重温了年轻时候的故事——忧愁怅惘等种种情感——但我们给这次聚会带来的还不止这些。我们是有着全新身份的人。我们是家里那位的妻子或女友。我们是女商人、艺术家及作家。我们不再是小女孩，也不再是刚毕业的大学生。我们已成为女人。 i shared an air mattress that night with my friend from boston, the one who calls me, while rubbernecking in traffic, to catch up on her cell phone, to tell me of her life and love. on the next mattress was a gal from san francisco, newly single and enjoying her independence. our host, the artist, shared her bedroom that weekend with a married dot-commer from san francisco. yes, we are different, but we are also the same. the years of our youth say so. 那天晚上，我与来自波士顿的朋友共睡一张充气床。路上交通堵塞时，她会边看热闹边给我打电话闲聊，说说她的生活及爱情。旁边的另一张床上睡的是来自旧金山的朋友，她刚刚恢复单身，正享受着一个人的生活。我们的主人——那位艺术家,那个周末与来自旧金山，就职it行业的一位已婚姐妹同住一间房。是的，我们变得不同了，但我们又仍然未变。我们的青春岁月可以证明这一切。 the apartment was open and we talked late into the night, our voices carrying back and forth between the rooms as we laughed, cackling about things that would only be humorous to friends with this kind of history. the next morning, i awoke to a brilliant blue sky, beautifully contrasted by the earthy brown of the surrounding adobe. it was saturday and the art enthusiasts were out, so, with coffee in hand, i dropped off our host at work. i returned to find the others still deep in slumber, deep lines on their faces evidence of a restfulsleep. 那房子的设计是放式的，我们聊天至深夜，笑谈着那些要有同样经历才觉得逗笑的事情，大家的声音在各个房间之间来回飘荡着。第二天早上醒来后，我发现外面阳光灿烂，在周围那泥褐色的房屋的映衬下，蔚蓝的天空显得分外美丽。当天是周六，那些艺术爱好者们都出动了。于是，我手捧咖啡送我们的主人去工作。回来后，我发现其他人还在熟睡，她们脸上压出的深痕表明她们睡得很沉很香。 we checked out town and headed to the airport to pick up the last straggler, who came in from san francisco for one night