English Original
The ocean is, was and always will be a big part of my life. My parents were ocean aficionados, and I was introduced to its beauty and serenity at an early age.
My fascination with the ocean escalated as the family spent summers on Long Island. By age ten, I was permitted to go to the beach alone each morning. One day, I noticed an older, shabbily dressed woman pulling a sled along the shore, stopping to examine pieces of driftwood.
I called out, but she didn't acknowledge me. Undeterred, I began helping her search. After half an hour, I left.
My parents explained I had met "The Driftwood Queen," or "Queenie." She was a reclusive figure living in a rundown cottage, supported by the community. No one knew her real name or story.
My parents allowed our friendship. Each morning, I'd wait for her, bringing an extra breakfast roll which she devoured with gusto. We scoured the beach in silent companionship.
One morning, I retrieved a large piece of driftwood. Queenie was elated. Her sled full, she unexpectedly tugged at my sleeve and led me to her dilapidated home.
Inside, I was astonished. Everything—furniture, cabinets, sculptures—was crafted from driftwood. "Did you make all these?" I exclaimed.
She nodded, then scribbled on a notepad: "Hello Anne, my name is Erma. Welcome to my home."
I learned she had difficulty speaking. We wrote notes, sharing cookies and a deep, wordless bond. "I love your company," she wrote.
Our daily quests continued until summer's end. Saying goodbye, I promised to return next year. Tears in her eyes, Erma gave me a small package and a kiss on the cheek. Inside was a driftwood seagull.
I never saw her again. Months later, my parents received a letter. Erma had been found in the snow near her home and had succumbed to pneumonia. Before dying, she wrote: "Thank you for being my friend. I love you. Take my driftwood and make others happy. Love Erma."
Her death was my first encounter with loss. My family donated her collection to the church community center. Every summer thereafter, our first visit was to that hall. I would stand in awe of the art born from the ocean and my friend's hands.
I learned that kindness receives far more in return. Like the ocean, love goes on forever. The driftwood seagull still stands in my cabinet, forty-eight years later.
中文翻译
海洋过去是、现在是、将来也永远是我生命的重要组成部分。我的父母是海洋爱好者，我很小就领略了它的美丽与宁静。
当全家在长岛度夏时，我对海洋的迷恋与日俱增。十岁时，我便获准每天早晨独自去海滩。一天，我注意到一位衣着破旧的老妇人沿着海岸拉着一辆雪橇，不时停下来仔细查看浮木。
我向她打招呼，但她没有理我。我不以为意，开始帮她一起寻找。半小时后，我离开了。
父母告诉我，我遇到了“浮木女王”，简称“Queenie”。她是一位隐居者，住在海湾附近破旧的小屋里，靠社区接济度日。没人知道她的真名或来历。
父母允许我和她交往。每天早晨，我都会等她，多带一个早餐卷，她总是津津有味地吃掉。我们在沉默中搜寻海滩，建立了友谊。
一天早晨，我捞起一块靠近岸边的大浮木。Queenie欣喜若狂。雪橇装满后，她出人意料地拉了拉我的袖子，带我去了她那破败的家。
屋内景象令我震惊。所有东西——家具、橱柜、雕塑——都是用浮木制成的。“这些都是你做的吗？”我惊呼道。
她点点头，然后在一个记事本上潦草地写下：“你好，安妮，我叫厄玛。欢迎来我家。”
我得知她说话有困难。我们通过写字条交流，分享饼干，建立了一种深厚而无言的纽带。“我喜欢有你陪伴，”她写道。
我们每日的搜寻持续到夏天结束。告别时，我承诺明年再来。厄玛眼含泪水，递给我一个小包裹，并亲吻了我的脸颊。里面是一只浮木海鸥。
我再也没见过她。几个月后，父母收到一封信。厄玛在家附近的雪地里被人发现，已因肺炎去世。临终前，她写道：“谢谢你做我的朋友。我爱你。拿走我的浮木，让其他人快乐吧。爱你的厄玛。”
她的去世是我第一次经历失去。我们家将她的收藏品捐赠给了教堂社区中心。从那以后，每年夏天我们的第一站就是去那个大厅。我会怀着敬畏之心，凝视这些源自海洋、经我朋友之手化作的艺术品。
我明白了，善意所获得的回报远多于付出。爱，如同海洋，永不止息。四十八年过去了，那只浮木海鸥仍立在我的橱柜里。