昨天，悠丫丫问：“妈妈，你能帮我看看这篇作文吗？” 心想，今天怎么那么抬举你老妈啊？啥时候写东西需要让咱过目了呢？心中虽犯疑惑，嘴上还是忙不迭地答应：“好啊”。 凑上前去，映入眼帘的题目是“A Leap of Faith”，大脑高速运转，试图揣测一下内容，这leap 在脑子里转了几圈，反馈回来的是一串：？？？... 还是直接进入主题吧，张嘴就开始朗读：“I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my silky dress. The claps of the audience….” 正读得起劲，觉得写得也有点意思，女儿在边上发话了，“妈妈，你只能在心里读。” “嗯？！为什么呀？” “这是心理活动的描写。大声读出来就没有味道了。” “哦?!” 默默地细细地读完了。 “不错，写得不错，”顺手哈格了一下女儿，“妈妈都能感受到你在台上那几分钟faith的升华了。” 我提了个问题：“可怎么这么短， 才一段？” 女儿说：“这是一种写作的style，叫 snapshot writing. 字数限制在255个之内”，接着叨叨，“老师要把这篇作文送去参加 writer’s showcase 的比赛。” “那好啊。妈妈就先收藏了。” 丫丫想从老妈这儿就写作水平得到指教，是没指望了。老妈所能做的，就剩下鼓励了。
A Leap of Faith I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my silky dress. The claps of the audience boomed out like thunder, drumming in my ears, acting like a steady beat propelling me to my fate. The harsh click of my heels intimidated me in the brief silence before I took my seat at the piano. I bathed in the golden light for just a second as the panic struggled to overtake me. I forced my hands up to stroke the ivory keys and I took a deep breath. In the moment that I played the first key, everything was brilliantly clear and beautiful, exhilarating like jumping off a cliff. It was a leap of faith that I would remember, remember exactly how my fingers moved in their patterns. It was a leap of faith that I would remember the sickening sweet quality of the beautiful melody and the absolute rush of my fingers flying in the climax of the piece. I couldn’t see any of the people watching me from the audience. It was a good thing. I knew if I switched my focus to something else for just a second, I would lose the trance I was in and the music would be tarnished and broken. The humming of the blood in my ears and flutters in my stomach were coming to a stop. The clapping came again, comforting this time and I floated back to earth.
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