My 23-year-old son Dan stood in the doorway, ready to say goodbye to his home. His rucksack1 was packed and ready for the journey. In a couple of hours he was going to fly out to France. He was going to be away for at least a year to learn a foreign language and experience life in a foreign country.

It was a milestone in Dan's life, a transition from school days to adulthood.2 When we were to say goodbye, I looked closely at his face. I would like to provide him with some good advice that would last longer than just here and now3.

But not a sound came over my lips. There was nothing that broke the silence in our house by the sea. I could hear the sharp cry of the seagulls outside, while they circled over the ever-changing and roaring surf.4 Inside I stood motionless and silent, looking into my son's green eyes with that penetrating5 look.

I knew that this wasn't the first time I let such an opportunity pass me by, and that made everything even more difficult. When Daniel was a little boy, I followed him to the bus on his first day in preschool6. I felt the excitement in his hand that held mine when the bus came round the corner. I saw the colour spread in his cheeks when the bus stopped.7 He looked at me -just like he did now.
What's it like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I do all right? And then he boarded8 the bus and disappeared. The bus drove away. And I hadn't said a word.

Some ten years later, a similar episode took place.9 His mother and I drove him to the university where he was going to study. On the first night he went out with his new friends, and when we met the next morning, he threw up10. He was sick with glandular fever, but we thought he had a hangover.11
Dan was ill in bed in his room when I wanted to say goodbye. I tried to come up with something to say, something that could inspire courage and self-confidence in him in this new era of his life.12
Again the words let me down13. I mumbled14 something like "I hope you're better, Dan." Then I turned around and left.

Now I stood in front of him and recalled all the times when I hadn't made use of those opportunities. How often has that not happened to all of us? A son graduates or a daughter is married. We do what has to be done at those kinds of ceremonies, but we don't pull our children aside to tell them what they have meant to us.15 Or what they might expect of the future.

There was one chance I didn't miss, however. One day I told Dan that the biggest mistake in my life was that I had not taken a year's sabbatical16 after I graduated from university. I could have travelled around the world, because I believed that was the best way to get a deeper insight to life. When first I was married and began working, the dream about living in another culture soon had to be shelved.17

Dan thought about it. His friends told him it was crazy of him to put off18 his career. But he quickly realised that it probably was not that bad an idea. And after he graduated from university, he worked as a waiter, a messenger19, and an assistant in a bookstore, so he could make enough money to go to Paris.
The night before his departure, I lay twisting and turning20 in bed, puzzling about what to tell him. I couldn't think of anything. Maybe, I thought, it wasn't really necessary after all. Seen in the perspective of an entire life, how important is it that a father tells his son what he thinks of him deep inside?21

But when I stood in front of Dan, I knew that it really did mean something. My father and I were fond of each other, and yet I have never felt sorry that he never expressed his feelings for me in words, that I didn't have a memory of such a moment. Now I felt my palms becoming moist, and my throat draw together.22 Why does it have to be so difficult to tell your son what you feel? My mouth was dry, and I knew that I could only say a few words.

"Dan," I finally stammered23 out, "if I had the choice myself, I would have chosen you."

　　 That was all I could say. I was not sure he understood what I meant. But then he stepped towards me and put his arms around me. For a short while the world and everything in it disappeared, there were only Dan and me in our home by the sea.

He was about to say something, but my eyes welled up24 and I didn't catch what he said. I only noticed his stubble25 pressing against my face. Then the moment was over. I went to work and a couple of hours later, Dan took off with his girlfriend.

It all happened a while ago. I think about him when I walk along the beach. Many miles away he may be hurrying across Boulevard St. Germain, strolling through the halls of Louvre, or having a drink at a caf?on the left bank of the Seine.26

What I told Dan was clumsy and commonplace.27 It was nothing. And yet it was everything.

1. rucksack:（登山或旅行用的）帆布背包。

2. 这是丹生命中的一个里程碑，标志着从校园生活到成人世界的一个转变。

3. here and now: 目前，此刻。

4. 我能听到外头海鸥发出的尖叫声，它们在瞬息万变、汹涌咆哮的惊涛上方盘旋着。

5. penetrating: 有洞察力的。

6. preschool: 幼儿园。

7. 校车停在我们身边时我看到了他两颊漾开的红晕。colour: 红晕。

8. board: 上（车）。

9. 十来年后，相似的一幕发生了。

10. throw up: 呕吐。

11. glandular fever: [医]腺热；hangover: （酗酒后的）宿醉（指头痛、恶心等不适反应）。

12. 我试图想出点儿可说的东西，一些在他人生的新阶段能够激发他的勇气和自信的话。come up with: 想出。

13. let down: 使失望，使沮丧。

14. mumble: 含糊地说，咕哝。

15. 我们做着在那些仪式上该做的事情，但是却没有把孩子拉到一边跟他们说他们对我们是多么重要。

16. sabbatical: 较长的假期，休假。

17. 我先结了婚，开始了工作，到另一种文化中体验生活的梦想很快就只好搁置起来了。

18. put off: 推迟，拖延。

19. messenger: 送信人，邮件投递员。

20. twist and turn: 辗转不眠。

21. 从整个一生的角度来看，一个父亲告诉儿子自己内心所想到底有多大意义？

22. 我感到手心发潮，喉咙发紧。

23. stammer: 结结巴巴地说。

24. well up: （眼睛）湿润了， (眼泪)涌出。

25. stubble: 发茬，须茬。

26.数英里之遥的他可能正匆匆走过圣日尔曼大道，在卢浮宫展厅里漫步，或是在塞纳河左岸的咖啡馆里喝着什么。（塞纳河将整个巴黎市区一分为二，河的南面被称为左岸，北面为右岸，右岸是巴黎的贸易、金融和消费中心，左岸则以其活力和文化氛围而闻名，青年和学生是左岸的象征，其中的圣日尔曼大道更是以其独特的古朴优雅的人文气质而闻名遐迩）。
27. 我对丹说的这些话十分笨拙和老套。