英語(yǔ)美文：歲月的便條

　　以下是小編整理的情感類(lèi)英語(yǔ)美文欣賞：歲月的便條，希望對(duì)你有所感觸。

　　歲月的便條

　　Can you still find this day, my dear, among yourpossessions?

　　Among the souvenirs of your trips to faraway lands,the textbooks from those halcyon days when youwalked the hallowed portals of that engineeringcollege, the cassettes whose covers were left behindafter one of those bacchanalian sessions in thehostel, the photographs of those classmates whosenames you can't remember? Or is it hidden in thedarkness, put out of sight along with the book you bought but never read, the gift you neverquite found a use for and the letters you never finished or sent.

　　I can still find it here, in the city, in the house which you have never visited, in the kitchenwhere I have imaginary conversations with you. It is here even when I am not, for I go outnow, leaving the light on and the music playing, so I can return home to the illusion ofcompany.

　　I am probably better off now. Without secrets to keep from my parents. Without someone tocome between me and my friends, me and my pastimes, me and my work, me and my sensible,understandable, utilitarian life. The life that I keep trying, keep failing to bring in line with theexpectations that I keep trying, keep failing to make my own.

　　It is not that I always feel like this, sometimes I yearn for those days when tears and laughterboth came easy. Those easy and quick transitions from ecstasy to despair. When acompliment could keep my mind occupied for hours on end and a harsh word could prick likea pin the same skin which now seems dry and insensitive. Like probably millions around theworld, I look outside the window of a crowded bus, lost in my own thoughts and wonder how itcould happen to me.

　　Was I not supposed to be different from the rest? Not for the silly schoolgirl infatuation withthe football team captain or the fascination with the good for nothing, pot-smoking aspiringpoet. Ours was a mature friendship that had blossomed into more. How could I feel a pang ofenvy then, when you lent a helping hand to another girl, when you spoke about someonewho's far away and about to be married, when you were so involved in the book you werereading that you did not notice that we never met all day?

　　When we decided that it had been too long and that we should meet, I carefully startedpreparing a package for you. A small poem, that book you always wanted but never found, anold photograph and a bar of chocolate for us to share. What would I wear and what would wetalk about? The package still remains in my drawer waiting for the phone to ring again.

　　It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when we sat in my tiny hostel room, discussing capitalism andcampus gossip with equal fervor. When it seemed as if those conversations could last foreverand we would never tire of them. When Joni Mitchell sang "California" seven times oncontinuous play before we thought of getting out.

　　Then one day suddenly we were looking for each other. You were always somewhere else, doingsomething else and strangely enough so was I. Those new people I met on that trip and thatjunior guy who loved the same movies I do. That girl next door who took math lessons fromyou. My room was almost always locked and yours was no different. We seemed to havediscovered a whole world outside of ourselves all of a sudden. The tragedy was we had also lostthe world we had before.

　　Then came the rescue mission. The loud fights in the hostel wing, the long silences and thedesperate angry notes. Frustration, anxiety and even love revealing itself in the ugliestpossible ways. Then indifference, complacency and resignation. Calm, dispassionatediscussions on how we could stay friends. The decision that we should always let the otherknow when we would be around. That's when I started leaving those yellow post-its on thedoor. Those yellow post-its which by the time I came back would have your coordinates that Inever used. If we had all of them now, they would be telling this tale a lot better than I am now.

　　Back home, I still continue leaving those post-its to this day, hoping that someone will writetheir whereabouts on them as well.