Waiting For the Breeze
等待清风
No
air conditioning? How can you sleep??a friend asks, horrified. I've
just revealed that my family has decided to turn the air conditioner
off and trim our electric bill.
"Nobody opens a window, day or night," warns another friend,
whose windows have been painted shut for a decade. "It's just not
safe.?On this first night of our cost cutting adventure, it's 30 degrees.
We're not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble anyway. They've
grown up in 22-degree comfort, insulated from the world outside.
"How do you open these windows??my husband asks. Jiggling the
metal tabs, he finally releases one. A potpourri* of bug bodies decorates
the sill. As we spring the windows one by one, the night noises howl
outside - and in.
"It's just too hot to sleep," my 13-year-old daughter complains.
"I'm about to die from this heat," her brother yells down
the passage.
"Just try it tonight," I tell them.
In truth I'm too tired to argue for long. I'm exhausted after attending
Grandma's estate auction. I toted home her oval tin bathtub and the
chair I once stood on like a big shot behind the counter of her shop,
packing chocolate and rolling coins.
My face is sweaty, but I lie quietly listening to the cricket choirs
outside that remind me of childhood. The neighbour's dog howls. Probably
a trespassing squirrel. It's been years since I've taken the time to
really listen to the night.
I think about Grandma, who lived to 92 and still supervised Mum's
gardening until just a few weeks before she died.
And then, I'm back there at her house in the summer heat of my childhood.
I move my pillow to the foot of Grandma's bed and angle my face towards
the open window. I flip the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.
Grandma sees me thrashing. "If you'll just watch for the breeze,"
she says, "you'll cool off and fall asleep.?She cranks up the Venetian
blinds. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter.
Lying still, waiting, I suddenly notice the life outside the window.
The bug chorus shouts, "Ajooga! Ajooga!?Neighbours, sitting on
their verandas until late, speak in hazy words with sanded edges that
soothe me.
"Keep watching for the breeze," Grandma says softly, and
I'm h-huh?in reply. Bugs ping the screen. Three blocks away a train
rumbles by.
I catch the scent of fresh grass clippings. Then I hear something
I can't decode - perhaps a tree branch raking the shingles on the shop
roof next door.
Sleepy-eyed now, I focus on the curtain. It flutters...
"Mum, did you hear that?"my seven-year-old blurts. "I
think it was an owl family.?"
Probably," I tell him.Just keep listening...?
Without the droning air conditioner, the house is oddly peaceful,
and the unfiltered night noises seem close enough to touch.
I hope I'm awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in.
我刚跟朋友说起我们家要关上空调，省点电费，朋友就吓了一跳，说："不开空调，你睡得着吗？"
另一个朋友也提醒我："不论白天还是晚上，都没人会开着窗户的，这样不安全。"她家的窗户刷过漆后，已经关了十年了。
我们家开始省电的第一天晚上，气温是30度，我们并不觉得难捱，可是三个孩子抱怨个不停。毕竟他们是在与外界隔绝的、22度恒温的舒适环境里长大的。
"这些窗户怎么开呀？"丈夫问。他摇晃着金属插销，好不容易才打开了一扇。各式各样昆虫的尸体装点着窗台。随着窗户一扇扇地打开，我们听见外面呼啸着的夜晚的声音--涌了进来。
13岁的女儿抱怨说："太热了，睡不着。"
她弟弟也借题发挥，嚷嚷着："热死了，热死了。"
"今晚就试试看吧。"我对他们说。
我实在太累了，不想和他们多争辩，白天参加完祖母的房产拍卖会后我已经筋疲力尽了。我把她的椭圆形锡制浴缸和一把椅子搬回了家。那把椅子本来放在祖母店里的柜台后面，我曾经像个大人物似的，站在上面，把巧克力包起来，硬币卷成卷。
我的脸上汗涔涔的，但我仍然静静地躺着，听着窗外--蟋蟀的歌唱勾起了童年的记忆。邻居家的狗突然狂叫起来，可能是一只松鼠惊动了它。我已经很多年没有花时间去倾听夜晚的声音了。
我想起了祖母。她活到92岁，去世前几周还帮妈妈照料花园。
此时，我好像又回到了祖母家里，回到小时候的夏季热浪中。
我把枕头挪到祖母的床脚，脸冲向开着的窗户。我不停地翻转着枕头，想找凉快的一面。
祖母看着我翻来覆去的，就说："等着起风吧，一会儿你就会凉快下来，睡着了。"
她卷起了百叶帘，我盯着那薄薄的白窗帘，盼着它能飘起来。
我静静地躺着，等待着。突然，窗外的生机引起了我的注意：昆虫在吱吱嗡嗡地合鸣；邻居们坐在阳台上，直到夜深，他们说话的声音有些模糊，那声音让我平静下来。
"等着风起来吧。"祖母柔声对我说。我嗯嗯作答。昆虫砰砰地撞到纱窗上。三个街区以外，火车隆隆驶过。
我闻到了新割的青草的气息。还有一种说不清是什么的声音--可能是树枝扫过隔壁店铺的屋顶吧。
眼皮发沉了，我还是盯着窗帘，终于，窗帘飘了起来……
"妈妈，你听到了吗？"7岁的孩子突然叫起来，"是猫头鹰一家吧�"
"可能是，听着吧……"我说。
没有空调嗡嗡的轰鸣声，房间里静得出奇，未经过滤的夜晚的声音近得似乎伸手可及。
我希望，今晚，当第一缕清风吹动时，我仍醒着。
