English Original
Grandma helped Grandpa to the kitchen for breakfast. After his meal, she led him to his armchair in the living room. This was their daily routine after Grandpa's latest stroke. His severely damaged left arm, difficulty walking, and slurred speech now kept him housebound.
Grandpa filled his hours with television. They had a pact—he was not to leave his chair or his bed without her assistance. "If you fell and I threw my back out trying to help you, who would take care of us?" Grandma would ask. She was adamant about their living independently in their Brooklyn brownstone, their first home filled with memories.
Immigrants from Ireland, they met and married in America. Grandma was friendly and outgoing; Grandpa was reserved and devoted to his family. However, he rarely purchased gifts for her, believing that treating her well daily made presents unnecessary—a sore point early in their marriage that faded with time.
One cold, gray February morning, Grandma settled Grandpa in his chair before taking a shower. When she returned, his cane was gone. The closet door stood open, and his hat and overcoat were missing. Fear ran down her spine.
She threw a coat over her bathrobe and ran outside. Desperately, she scanned the block. The icy sidewalks made walking treacherous, especially for someone in Grandpa's condition. Where could he be? Wringing her hands, she recalled him saying he felt like a "burden." Guilt flooded her.
Just then, Grandpa walked around the corner. Head bowed, he took small, cautious steps. His overcoat barely draped his bad shoulder; his cane and a package filled his good arm.
Grandma raced to him. Relieved, she started to scold. "What on earth was so important?"
Confused, she reached into the brown bag he carried and pulled out a heart-shaped box.
"It's Valentine's Day," Grandpa explained, his words slightly slurred from the stroke. "I thought you might like a box of chocolates. I haven't bought you a gift in a long, long time."
Tears flooded Grandma's eyes as she hugged his arm and led him back home. She shook her head slowly.
It just goes to show, she thought, it's never too late for romance.
中文翻译
奶奶帮助爷爷到厨房吃早餐。饭后，她领他到客厅的扶手椅上。这是爷爷最近一次中风后他们的日常。他严重受损的左臂、行走困难和含糊不清的言语现在将他困在了家中。
爷爷用看电视来打发时间。他们有一个约定——没有她的帮助，他不能离开椅子或床。"如果你摔倒了，而我为了帮你扭伤了背，谁来照顾我们？"奶奶会这样问。她坚决主张他们在充满回忆的布鲁克林褐石屋——他们的第一个家——里独立生活。
他们是从爱尔兰来的移民，在美国相遇并结婚。奶奶友善外向；爷爷沉默寡言，忠于家庭。然而，他很少给她买礼物，认为平日里对她好就不需要礼物——这是他们婚姻早期的一个痛点，但随着时间的推移渐渐淡去。
一个寒冷、灰暗的二月的早晨，奶奶安顿好爷爷坐进椅子，然后去洗澡。当她回来时，他的拐杖不见了。壁橱门敞开着，他的帽子和外套也不见了。一阵恐惧袭上她的脊背。
她在浴袍外披了件外套就跑了出去。她绝望地扫视着街区。结冰的人行道让行走变得危险，尤其是对于爷爷这种情况的人。他可能去哪儿呢？她搓着双手，想起他曾说过感觉自己是个"负担"。内疚淹没了她。
就在这时，爷爷从拐角处走了过来。他低着头，迈着小心的小步。他的外套勉强搭在他那只不好的手臂的肩膀上；他的拐杖和一个包裹占满了他那只好的手臂。
奶奶冲向他。松了口气，她开始责备。"到底什么事这么重要？"
困惑中，她伸手进他拿着的棕色纸袋，掏出一个心形的盒子。
"今天是情人节，"爷爷解释道，他因中风而略显含糊的话语温暖了冬日的寒风。"我想你可能会喜欢一盒巧克力。我已经很久、很久没给你买过礼物了。"
泪水涌上奶奶的眼眶，她将他的手臂搂在胸前，领着他回家。她慢慢地摇了摇头。
这正好说明，她想，浪漫永远不会太迟。