A child’s clutter awaits an adult’s return

1  I watch her back her new truck out of the driveway. The  vehicle is too large, too expensive. She’d refused to consider a practical car with good gas efficiency and easy to park. It’s because of me, I think. She bought it to show me that she could.

2  “I’m 18,” she’d told me so often that my teeth ached. “I am an adult!”

3  I thought, is that true? Just yesterday you watched some cartoons. What changed between yesterday and today?

4  Today she’s gone, off to be an adult far away from me. I’m glad she’s gone. It means she made it, and that I’m finally free of 18 years of responsibilities. And yet I wonder if she could take good care of herself.

5  She left a mess. Her bathroom is an embarrassment of damp towels, hair in the sink, and nearly empty tubes of toothpaste. I bring a box of big black garbage bags upstairs. Eye shadow, face cream, nail polish – all go into the trash. I dump drawers, sweep shelves clear, and clean the sink. When I am finished, it is as neat and impersonal as a hotel bathroom.

6  In her bedroom I find mismatched socks under her bed and purple pants on the closet floor. Desk drawers are filled with school papers, filed by year and subject. I catch myself reading through poems and essays, admiring high scores on tests, and reading her name, printed or typed neatly in the upper right-hand corner of each paper. I pack the desk contents into a box. Six months, I think. I will give her six months to collect her belongings, and then I will throw them all away. That is fair. Grown-ups pay for storage.

7  I have to pause at the books. Comic books, teen fiction, romantic novels, historical novels, and textbooks. Each book beloved. I want to be practical and stuff them in paper sacks for the used bookstore. But I love books as much as she does, so I stack them onto a single bookshelf to deal with later.

8  I go for her clothes. Dresses, sweaters, and shoes she hasn’t worn since seventh grade are placed into garbage bags. I am a plague of locusts emptying the closet. Two piles grow to clumsy heights: one for charity, the other trash.

9  There are more shoes, stuffed animals, large and small posters, hair bands, and pink hair curlers. The job grows larger the longer I am at it. How can one girl collect so much in only 18 years?

10  I stuff the garbage bags until the plastic strains. I haul them down the stairs, two bags at a time. Donations to charity go into the trunk of my car; trash goes to the curb. I’m earning myself sweat and sore shoulders.

11  She left the bedroom a ridiculous mess, the comforter on the floor, the sheets tossed aside. I strip off the comforter, blanket, sheets, and pillows. Once she starts feeding coins into laundry machines, she’ll appreciate the years of clean clothes I’ve provided for free.

12  I will turn her room into a crafts room. Or create the fancy guest room I’ve always wanted.

13  I turn the bed over. A large brown envelope is marked “DO NOT THROW AWAY”. I open it. More papers. I dump the contents onto the floor. There are old family photographs, letters, greeting cards, and love notes from us to her. There are comics clipped from newspapers and magazines. Every single item in this envelope has passed from our hands to hers. These are all things that we gave her. Suddenly, I feel very emotional.

14  “DO NOT THROW AWAY”.

15  My kid – my clutter bug – knows me too well. As I read through the cards and notes, I think maybe the truck wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Maybe it helps her to feel less small in a big world.

16  I reverse myself and bring back the garbage bags from the car and the curb. Clothes and shoes go back into the closet. I remake the bed and pile it with stuffed animals. My husband comes home and calls up the stairs.

17  “Just straightening up,” I tell him. “Can you find some boxes for her stuff?”

18   He brings up boxes from the basement.

19  “She left a mess,” he says.

20  “I don’t mind,” I reply. Silence.

儿时百宝犹在，待你成年归来

1 我看着她把她的新卡车倒出车道。车太大，而且太贵。她就是不愿意考虑买辆开起来省油、停起来省心的实用型汽车。我想，原因在我。她买这辆车就是为了让我看看她的能耐。

2“我18岁了。”她经常这样对我说，以至于听得我牙都疼了。“我是成年人了！”

3 我心想，真的吗？昨天你还在看动画片呢。今天和昨天相比，又能有什么变化？

4 今天她走了，远离我去当她的成年人了。我很高兴她离开了。这意味着她成功了，而我也终于可以从18年的责任中脱身了。但是我不知道她能不能照顾好自己。

5 她留下一片狼藉。她的卫生间看上去令人难堪，有没拧干的毛巾、散落在洗脸池里的头发，还有几支快空了的牙膏。我拿了一盒大号的黑色垃圾袋上了楼。眼影、面霜、指甲油——这些统统扔进垃圾袋。我把抽屉清空，把架子清理干净，还把洗脸池擦洗干净。我打扫完后，卫生间变得井井有条，没有了女儿生活过的痕迹，就像酒店的卫生间。

6 在她的卧室里，我发现床下有不配对的袜子，壁橱地板上扔着紫色的裤子。桌子抽屉里满是读书期间的作业和试卷，按照年份和科目归了类。我发现自己竟然在翻看她的诗歌和作文，欣赏着试卷上的高分，端详着每张试卷右上角她用印刷体工整书写的或是打印的她的名字。我把书桌里的东西收拾到一个盒子里。六个月，我心想。如果过了六个月她还不来拿她的东西，我就会把它们一股脑儿全扔了。这很公平。成年人存放东西是要付费的。

7 轮到整理书的时候，我有些犹豫了。连环漫画册、青少年小说、言情小说、历史小说，还有课本。每本书都是她的心爱之物。我想现实一点，把这些书塞进纸袋，然后送到旧书店。但是我跟女儿一样爱书，于是我把这些书堆放到一个单独的书架上，等日后再做处理。

8 接下来我着手整理她的衣服。那些她从七年级起就不再穿的裙子、毛衣和鞋子都被装进了垃圾袋。我就像蝗虫洗劫一样，清空了壁橱。理出乱蓬蓬的两大堆东西：一堆捐给慈善机构，另一堆扔掉。

9 可是还有更多的鞋子、毛绒动物玩具、大大小小的海报、发箍和粉色的卷发夹。我越整理，东西就越多。一个小姑娘怎么能在仅仅18年里收集这么多东西？

10 我把东西往垃圾袋里塞，直到塑料袋快要被撑破了。我把垃圾袋拽下楼梯，一次拽两个。要捐给慈善机构的都放在我汽车的后备厢里；要扔掉的都放在路边。我弄得浑身是汗，肩膀酸痛。

11 她把卧室弄得乱到匪夷所思的地步，盖被掉在地板上，床单掀到一边。我把盖被、毯子、床单和枕套都拆了下来。等到她开始往洗衣机里投币洗衣服的那一天，她就会感激我这些年来为她无偿提供的干净衣服了。

12 我打算把她的房间改成手工工作室，或者改成一间我一直想要的漂亮客房。

13 我把床翻了个个儿，发现一个棕色的大信封，上面写着“不要扔掉”。我打开一看，又是一些纸。我把信封里的东西都倒在地板上。其中有家里的老照片、书信、贺卡、我们写给她的爱心留言，还有从报纸和杂志上剪下来的漫画。信封中的每一样东西都是我们亲手给她的。我们以前给她的东西都在这个信封里。刹那间，我百感交集。

14“不要扔掉”。

15 我的孩子——我那爱收罗杂物的小家伙——太了解我了。我一边翻看着卡片和留言，一边想：也许她买那辆卡车也不算什么太糟糕的主意。也许这能让置身于大千世界中的她感到不那么渺小。

16 我改变了主意，把垃圾袋从车里和路边又拿了回来。我把衣服和鞋子放回壁橱，重新铺好床，再堆上毛绒动物玩具。我丈夫回家了，朝着楼上喊我。

17“我把房间稍微整理一下。”我告诉他。“你能找些盒子来装她的东西吗?”

18 他从地下室拿上来几个盒子。

19“她弄得真乱啊。”他说。

20“我不介意。”我回答。我们两人都沉默了。21 然后他轻轻地说道：“她不会回来了。”他伤感的语气让我喉头一紧。我努力克制，不让眼泪流下来。

22 我的小宝贝儿，那个什么都让我操心的孩子，不再回来了。但是有一天，我的女儿，那位独立的女士，会回来的。家里有满载童年回忆的物品等着她。我们也在等着她，张开双臂等她回来。