English Original
The snow started to fall several hours before her labor began. A few flakes first, in the dull gray late-afternoon sky, and then wind-driven swirls and eddies around the edges of their wide front porch. He stood by her side at the window, watching sharp gusts of snow billow, then swirl and drift to the ground. All around the neighborhood, lights came on, and the naked branches of the trees turned white.
After dinner he built a fire, venturing out into the weather for wood he had piled against the garage the previous autumn. The air was bright and cold against his face, and the snow in the driveway was already halfway to his knees. He gathered logs, shaking off their soft white caps and carrying them inside. The kindling in the iron grate caught fire immediately, and he sat for a time on the hearth, cross-legged, adding logs and watching the flames leap, blue-edged and hypnotic. Outside, snow continued to fall quietly through the darkness, as bright and thick as static in the cones of light cast by the streetlights. By the time he rose and looked out the window, their car had become a soft white hill on the edge of the street. Already his footprints in the driveway had filled and disappeared.
He brushed ashes from his hands and sat on the sofa beside his wife, her feet propped on pillows, her swollen ankles crossed, a copy of Dr. Spock balanced on her belly. Absorbed, she licked her index finger absently each time she turned a page. Her hands were slender, her fingers short and sturdy, and she bit her bottom lip lightly, intently, as she read. Watching her, he felt a surge of love and wonder: that she was his wife, that their baby, due in just three weeks, would soon be born. Their first child, this would be. They had been married just a year.
She looked up, smiling, when he tucked the blanket around her legs.
"You know, I've been wondering what it's like," she said. "Before we're born, I mean. It's too bad we can't remember." She opened her robe and pulled up the sweater she wore underneath, revealing a belly as round and hard as a melon. She ran her hand across its smooth surface, firelight playing across her skin, casting reddish gold onto her hair. "Do you suppose it's like being inside a great lantern? The book says light permeates my skin, that the baby can already see."
"I don't know," he said.
She laughed. "Why not?" she asked. "You're the doctor."
"I'm just an orthopedic surgeon," he reminded her. "I could tell you the ossification pattern for fetal bones, but that's about it." He lifted her foot, both delicate and swollen inside the light blue sock, and began to massage it gently: the powerful tarsal bone of her heel, the metatarsals and the phalanges, hidden beneath skin and densely layered muscles like a fan about to open. Her breathing filled the quiet room, her foot warmed his hands, and he imagined the perfect, secret, symmetry of bones. In pregnancy she seemed to him beautiful but fragile, fine blue veins faintly visible through her pale white skin.
中文翻译
雪花在她分娩开始前几小时便已飘落。起初只是几片，在灰蒙蒙的暮色天空中，随后变成被风驱赶的漩涡和涡流，在他们宽阔的前廊边缘打转。他站在她身旁，在窗边看着一阵阵猛烈的风雪翻涌，然后打着旋飘落到地上。整个街区，灯光渐次亮起，树木光秃秃的枝桠变得雪白。
晚饭后，他生起了火，冒险走进风雪中去取去年秋天堆在车库旁的木柴。空气明亮而寒冷，扑打在他的脸上，车道上的雪已经没到他膝盖一半高了。他收集木柴，抖掉上面柔软的白雪帽，把它们搬进屋里。铁炉栅里的引火柴立刻燃了起来，他盘腿在壁炉边坐了一会儿，添加木柴，看着火焰跳跃，边缘泛着蓝光，令人着迷。外面，雪继续静静地在黑暗中飘落，在街灯投射出的锥形光柱中，明亮而密集，如同静电干扰。等他起身望向窗外时，他们的车已变成了街边一个柔软的白雪小山丘。他在车道上留下的脚印早已被填满、消失了。
他掸掉手上的灰烬，在妻子身边的沙发上坐下。她的脚搁在枕头上，肿胀的脚踝交叠着，一本斯波克医生的书平衡地放在她的肚子上。她读得入神，每次翻页都心不在焉地舔一下食指。她的手很纤细，手指短而结实，她读书时轻轻地、专注地咬着下唇。看着她，他心中涌起一阵爱意与惊叹：她是他的妻子，他们的宝宝，还有三周就要出生了。这将是他们的第一个孩子。他们结婚才一年。
当他为她掖好腿边的毯子时，她抬起头，微笑着。
“你知道吗，我一直在想那是什么感觉，”她说。“我是说，在我们出生之前。真可惜我们不记得了。”她敞开睡袍，拉起里面穿的毛衣，露出一个像瓜一样又圆又硬的肚子。她的手滑过光滑的肚皮表面，炉火的光在她皮肤上跳跃，给她的头发染上了一层红金色。“你觉得会不会像是待在一个巨大的灯笼里？书上说光线能穿透我的皮肤，宝宝已经能看见了。”
“我不知道，”他说。
她笑了。“怎么会不知道？”她问。“你可是医生啊。”
“我只是个整形外科医生，”他提醒她。“我可以告诉你胎儿骨骼的骨化模式，但也就这些了。”他抬起她的脚，那只脚在浅蓝色的袜子里既精致又肿胀，开始轻轻地按摩：她脚跟有力的跗骨，跖骨和趾骨，隐藏在皮肤和层层密实的肌肉之下，像一把即将展开的扇子。她的呼吸充满了安静的房间，她的脚温暖了他的双手，他想象着骨骼那完美、隐秘的对称。怀孕期间，她在他眼中美丽而脆弱，纤细的蓝色血管在她苍白的皮肤下隐约可见。