English Original
She was dancing. My crippled grandmother was dancing. I stood in the living room doorway, absolutely stunned. I glanced at the kitchen table and, sure enough, right under a small, framed drawing on the wall, was a freshly baked peach pie.
I had heard her singing when I opened the door but did not want to interrupt by announcing my arrival. I tiptoed to the living room. I watched her still-lean body bend beautifully, her arms greeting the sunlight pouring through the window. And her legs... Those legs that had stiffly walked, aided by a cane, for as long as I could remember. Now she wore beautiful dancing shoes, and her legs obeyed her perfectly. No limping. No stiffness. Just beautiful, fluid motion. She turned in a slow pirouette and saw me standing there. Her song and movements ended so abruptly it felt like being shaken awake from a dream.
"So... how did your leg heal?" I blurted out as we ate pie.
"To tell you the truth—my legs have been well all my life," she said.
"You pretended all these years?"
"Very much so," Grandmother said, savoring the pie. "And for a very good reason. Your grandfather."
She explained. They were engaged when he left for war. Terrified of losing him, she channeled her fear into dance, becoming a celebrated performer. Yet, her heart ached for his return. His letters always ended with, "You are my Joy. I love you with my life." Then, a devastating letter arrived: he had lost a leg and was releasing her from their engagement.
"I made my decision then," Grandma continued. She left the city and returned with a cane, her leg bandaged, claiming a car accident had ended her career. She learned to limp convincingly and even planted the story with a reporter. Then, she went to the hospital where he sat in a wheelchair.
"I told him he wasn't the only one who had lost a leg," she said, showing him newspaper clippings of her "accident." "I said, 'There's a whole life waiting for us. I'm not going to carry you—you're going to walk yourself.'"
She limped a few steps and pulled something from her pocket. "'Now show me you are still a man,' I said. 'I won't ask again.'" He struggled out of the wheelchair, using his cane, and walked to her. He never used the wheelchair again.
"What did you show him?" I asked.
Grandma grinned. "Two engagement rings, of course. I had bought them the day after he left for the war."
I looked at the drawing on the kitchen wall, sketched by my grandfather years before. Tears filled my eyes as I murmured his words, "You are my Joy. I love you with my life." The young woman in the drawing smiled broadly, an engagement ring carefully drawn on her finger.
中文翻译
她在跳舞。我那“跛脚”的祖母正在跳舞。我站在客厅门口，完全惊呆了。我瞥了一眼厨房的桌子，果然，墙上那幅镶框小画的下方，放着一个新鲜出炉的桃子派。
我开门时听到了她的歌声，但不想出声打断。我踮着脚走到客厅。看着她依然苗条的身姿优美地弯曲，她的手臂迎接着从窗户倾泻而入的阳光。还有她的腿……那双在我记忆中一直拄着拐杖、僵硬行走的腿。现在她穿着漂亮的舞鞋，她的腿完美地听从她的指挥。没有跛行。没有僵硬。只有美丽、流畅的动作。她缓缓地做了一个单足旋转，看到了站在那里的我。她的歌声和动作戛然而止，就像从美梦中被摇醒。
我们吃派时，我脱口而出：“那么……你的腿是怎么治好的？”
“说实话——我的腿一辈子都很好，”她说。
“你假装了这么多年？”
“是的，”祖母品尝着派说道，“而且是为了一个很好的理由。你的祖父。”
她解释道。他出征时，他们已订婚。因为害怕失去他，她把恐惧倾注到舞蹈中，成为了一位备受赞誉的舞者。然而，她的心一直为他的归来而疼痛。他的每封信都以“你是我的幸福。我用我的生命爱你”结尾。后来，一封毁灭性的信来了：他失去了一条腿，要解除婚约。
“我当即做了决定，”祖母继续说。她离开城市，回来时带着拐杖，腿上缠着绷带，声称一场车祸结束了她的职业生涯。她学会了逼真地跛行，甚至把故事透露给了一位记者。然后，她去了他所在的医院，他正坐在轮椅上。
“我告诉他，他不是唯一失去一条腿的人，”她说着，给他看了关于她“事故”的剪报。“我说，‘我们面前还有完整的人生。我不会背你——你要自己走。’”
她跛行了几步，从口袋里掏出一样东西。“‘现在证明给我看你还是个男子汉，’我说，‘我不会再问第二次。’”他拄着拐杖，挣扎着离开轮椅，走向她。此后，他再也没坐过轮椅。
“你给他看了什么？”我问。
祖母咧嘴笑了：“当然是两枚订婚戒指。他出征后的第二天我就买了。”
我望着厨房墙上那幅多年前由祖父绘制的画。泪水模糊了我的双眼，我低声念着他的话：“你是我的幸福。我用我的生命爱你。”画中的年轻女子灿烂地笑着，手指上精心画着一枚订婚戒指。