On this early morning in Vancouver, my son and I stop

温哥华的这个清晨，儿子和我停步

on our way to breakfast when we hear

在去吃早点的路上听说

the Kenyan will soon be running past this corner.

那个肯尼亚人就快要从这儿跑过。

Of course we want to see his gorgeous stride,

我们当然想目睹他优美的身姿，

but after half an hour I'm shivering

等了半小时，我穿着薄毛衣

in my thin sweater. That's when my son begins

冷得瑟瑟发抖。 这时儿子开始

to rub my back--offering up the heat of his palms.

摩擦我的后背——献给我他掌心的温暖。

What could be better than to stand here hungry

有什么比这更好的呢？饿着肚子站着

and be curried like this? If I hadn't been cold

却这样被呵护。 如果我不冷

I wouldn't have his hands on my spine,

他的双手也不会放在我的脊背上，

flaring across my shoulder blades. For a moment

在肩胛之间发热。 一时间

it seems possible that every frailty, every pain,

仿佛每一刻的脆弱，每一种痛，

could be an opening, a crack that lets the unexpected

都可能是个契机，是条裂缝，让意外的收获

reach us. How can I remember this

穿透进来给我。 要怎样才能记住呢？

when I'm old and need so much?

当我老了，需要的又那么多。