Back in the old country

I stopped to let the car cool off and to study the map. I had expected to be near my objective by now, but everything still seemed alien to me. I was only five when my father had taken me abroad, and that was eighteen years ago. When my mother had died after a tragic accident, he did not quickly recover from the shock and loneliness. Everything around him was full of her presence, continually reopening the wound. So he decided to emigrate. In the new country he became absorbed in making a new life for the two of us, so that he gradually ceased to grieve. He did not marry again and I was brought up without a woman's care; but I lacked for nothing, for he was both father and mother to me. He always meant to go back one day, but not to stay. His roots and mine had become too firmly embedded in the new land. But he wanted to see the old folk again and to visit my mother's grave. He became mortally ill a few months before we had planned to go and, when he knew that he was dying, he made me promise to go on my own. I hired a car the day after landing and bought a comprehensive book of maps, which I found most helpful on the cross - country journey, but which I did not think I should need on the last stage. It was not that I actually remembered anything at all. But my father had described over and over again what we should see at every milestone, after leaving the nearest town, so that I was positive I should recognize it as familiar territory. Well, I had been wrong, for I was now lost. I looked at the map and then at the milometer. I had come ten miles since leaving the town, and at this point, according to my father, I should be looking at farms and cottages in a valley, with the spire of the church of our village showing in the far distance. I could see no valley, no farms, no cottages and no church spire - only a lake. I decided that I must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. So I drove back to the town and began to retrace my steps, taking the routes I had not taken before. It was a slow process, full of frustrations and regular disappointments. Just when I was beginning to despair, I came upon a signpost. And it was only as I was studying it that I realized I had been looking at it from the wrong angle all the time. There was my village, right where my father had said it would be. I drove on for a few miles and then I saw it. My father had described it to me so often that I recognized it immediately - my mother's old home. Then I turned a corner and, as I did so, I realized that I had been deceived by an optical illusion. I had been following a man who was two hundred yards ahead of me and who was also driving slowly. As he turned a corner, I assumed that he must be making for the same destination as myself. I followed him for a long time, but at last I lost him in the darkness. I looked at my watch. It was past midnight. I was very tired and also very hungry by this time, but there was still no sign of the village. I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake. Just then I saw a faint light in the distance. I drove towards it, hoping that it was a sign of some sort of habitation. It was a small house, and I could see a man working in the garden. I got out of the car and walked towards him. He stopped his work and looked at me. "You're lost, aren't you?" he said. "Yes," I replied. "I'm looking for my mother's old home." "Your mother's old home?" he said. "There are no houses here." "But it must be here," I said. "My father described it to me so often." "Your father?" he said. "Who was your father?" "His name was Henry,", I said. "Henry who?" he asked. "Henry Twycross,", I said. "Oh," he said. "I knew him. He used to live here. But that was a long time ago. There's been a lot of change since then." "But where is my mother's old home?" I asked. "It's gone,", he said. "It was knocked down years ago." "But why?" I asked. "Because it was in the way of progress,", he said. "There was a new road being built and it had to be removed." "So what am I to do?" I asked. "You can stay here if you like,", he said. "I have a spare room." "Thank you,", I said. "But I think I'll go on." "Where to?" he asked. "I don't know,", I said. "I just want to see the old country." "Well," he said. "Good luck." I got back into the car and drove off. I was very sad. I had come all this way to find my mother's old home, but it was gone. I had been deceived by my father's description and by my own memories. I was lost again, not only in the physical sense but also in the emotional sense. I drove on for a while, but I was not really interested in where I was going. I was just thinking about my father and my mother and the old days. Then I saw a signpost. It said "To the old country". I followed it. I don't know where it led me, but I followed it. I was still lost, but I was following the signpost to the old country.

我停下车，让汽车发动机冷却一下，同时查看一下地图。我本以为这时已经接近目的地了，但周围的一切对我来说仍很陌生。我5岁那年，父亲就带我出了国，那是18年前的事了。当时我母亲在一次事故中惨死，父亲未能很快从悲痛与孤独中恢复过来。他身边的一切都有母亲的影子，总让他不断地想起伤心事。于是他决定移居他国。在新的国家里，他专心致志地为我们俩开创一种新的生活，这样他渐渐从悲痛中恢复过来。父亲没有再娶，因此，我在没有母亲的环境里长大成人。但我什么也不缺，因为他既当父亲又当母亲。他一直想有朝一日能回去，但不想在那儿长住。因为他与我一样，已经把根深深地扎在了异国的土地上。但是，他想看一看家乡父老乡亲，为我的母亲扫墓。就在我们计划回国的前几个月，他突然身患绝症。他知道自己已奄奄一息，于是他要我答应一定单独回故乡一趟。我下飞机后租了一辆车，并买了一本详尽的地图册。在乡间行车途中，我觉得它非常有用，但快到家了，我倒觉得它没什么用了。这倒不是我真的已记住了沿途的所有情况，而是父亲曾详细给我讲了在过了离故乡最近的那个小镇后，每一个路标处我们应该看到的东西。因此，我相信这段路对我来说会是很熟悉的。唉，实际我错了，我现在迷路了。我看了看地图，又查了一下里程表。从小镇出来，我已经开车行驶了10英里。照父亲的说法，我应该看到山谷里的农场与村舍，还应该看到远处我们村子里教堂的尖顶。可我看不到山谷，看不见农场，也看不见村舍和教堂尖顶——我只看见一片湖泊。我断定一定是什么地方拐错了弯儿。于是我驾车返回小镇，重新按我先前不走的路线行驶。这是一个缓慢的过程，充满了挫折和不断的失望。就在我开始绝望的时候，我看到了一个路标。就在我仔细查看它的时候，我才意识到自己一直从错误的角度看它。我的村子就在那里，就在父亲说的那个地方。我开车又往前走了几英里，然后我看到了它。父亲多次给我描述过它，所以我一眼就认出了——我母亲的老家。接着我拐过一个弯，就在这时，我意识到我被一种视觉错觉骗了。我一直在跟着一个人，他在我前面200码远的地方，也在慢慢地开车。当他拐弯的时候，我以为他一定是朝着跟我相同的目的地行驶。我跟了他很长时间，最后在黑暗中把他给跟丢了。我看了看表，已经过了午夜。这时我又累又饿，可是还看不到村庄的影子。我开始怀疑自己是不是弄错了。就在这时，我看到远处有微弱的灯光。我朝着灯光开车过去，希望那是某种住所的标志。那是一座小房子，我看到有个人在花园里干活。我下了车，朝他走去。他停下手中的活儿看着我。“你迷路了，是吗？”他说。“是的，”我回答，“我在找我母亲的老家。”“你母亲的老家？”他说，“这儿没有房子。”“但它一定在这儿，”我说，“我父亲多次给我描述过。”“你父亲？”他说，“你父亲是谁？”“他叫亨利。”我说。“亨利谁？”他问。“亨利·特怀克罗斯。”我说。“哦，”他说，“我认识他。他过去就住在这儿。但那是很久以前的事了。从那以后发生了很多变化。”“但我母亲的老家在哪儿呢？”我问。“没了，”他说，“多年前就拆掉了。”“为什么？”我问。“因为要发展，”他说，“当时正在修一条新公路，它必须被拆掉。”“那我该怎么办呢？”我问。“如果你愿意，可以住在这儿，”他说，“我有一间空房。”“谢谢你，”我说，“但我想我还是继续往前走吧。”“去哪儿？”他问。“我不知道，”我说，“我只想看看故乡。”“嗯，”他说，“祝你好运。”我回到车上，开车走了。我非常难过。我大老远跑来就是为了找我母亲的老家，可它却没了。我被父亲的描述和自己的记忆欺骗了。我又迷失了方向，不仅在地理上，而且在感情上。我继续开车行驶了一会儿，但我对去哪儿已不感兴趣。我只是在想我的父亲、母亲和过去的日子。然后我看到一个路标，上面写着“通往故乡”。我顺着它指的方向开去。我不知道它会把我带到哪里，但我还是跟着它。我仍然迷失着，但我在朝着故乡的方向前行。