I started college when I was 16 years old. It was a big scary place, and I was young. I remember standing in line for registration with the hordes of other people. I felt so insecure and inadequate next to those who were my supposed peers. How would I ever measure up to these people who seemed so confident and sure of what they wanted?

  I didn’t have any specific direction. I didn’t have a clue as to what I wanted to do or be. College was just the next logical step. I felt very much out of place. To me, these people around me embodied my picture of the consummate college student. They stood there laughing with their friends, a cup of coffee in one hand, the schedule of classes in the other, discussing their options for the upcoming term. Me, I had a list of classes on a piece of paper that I had painstakingly worked out with my big brother the night before. If I didn’t get those particular classes, I was sunk. The idea of having a backup plan never even occurred to me. What would I do? I would just die. I knew that crying wasn’t an option—I was in college for heaven’s sake! Maybe throwing up would be a more socially acceptable reaction. I was alone, nervous and feeling like a cartoon in a museum of priceless paintings.

  When the first week of classes started, I had the daunting task of trying to figure out where my classes were in this city they called a school. I was already exhausted by the overwhelming task of trying to park my car. Feeling awkward, out of place and in a world of logistical nightmares, studying and getting an education were the last things on my mind. But I put one foot in front of the other and prayed l would find some solace somewhere. And I did.

  He walked into my life and into the huge auditorium that looked more like a movie theater than a classroom. But instead of taking a seat in the large lecture hall, he continued toward the front of the room to teach the class. He was smart and funny. I started to find any excuse to visit his office. This strange new world started to hold new meaning for me, and I began to explore it with more bravado. That was the good news. The bad news was that I had a crush on a man who was twice my age, married and had a family. But I felt helpless among all these new feelings and experiences I was having. Was this what becoming an adult meant? It all seemed too confusing.

  I excelled in his class. One day he asked me if I wanted to help him grade papers, file and do some office work—a teacher’s aide of sorts. There was no need to ask me twice. As the weeks passed, we shared lots of time together. I learned how to drink coffee over long philosophical conversations. We became friends.

  Much to my surprise, out of the blue, he asked me if I would consider doing some baby-sitting for him. I was getting an invitation to become part of his private world. I was given directions to his house and told to come by that Thursday.

  I arrived at his house promptly at six. He greeted me at the door. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s very important to me.” He explained that his wife was taking care of her ailing mother and had taken their 8-month-old baby with her. Lily, their 6-year-old, needed special care, and he was hoping to find someone who would click with her.

  “Lily has cystic fibrosis and spends too much of her little life in bed.” My heart just broke as I saw the love he had in his eyes for his little girl.

  He took me into her room and, in the middle of a princess bed, sat this fair-haired little angel. She had some sort of breathing apparatus next to her bed that looked strangely out of place, what happened next was something I wasn’t prepared for.

  “This is the girl I told you about, Sweetie,” he signed to his daughter. It turned out that Lily was deaf as well. I panicked. How would I communicate with her? What if there was an emergency?

  “Her oral skills are good enough that you will be able to understand her, and you’ll probably pick up some sign language. I’ll only be gone, a couple of hours.” He left me with emergency numbers and pertinent information, and then he was gone.

  I sat down on the bed with Lily, and her little fingers started flying. I shrugged my shoulders to let her know that I was lost. She smiled sweetly and then started to use her voice. She explained how it was easier to breathe when she let her fingers do her talking. That night I had my first lesson in sign language.

  Over the next couple of months, I spent a lot of time with Lily. As I got to know Lily’s dad as a father and as a husband, the crush changed. Now I was falling in love with his daughter. She taught me so much: not only how to sign, but also how to appreciate each moment in my life and how worrying over needless things was just stupid. We laughed together when she taught me the sign for stupid, where you take the closed fist of your right hand and knock on the side of your forehead—as if you’re knocking to try to get in. She laughed as I made believe that I was hurting myself by knocking on my head too hard. And she would sign,“You hurt yourself just as much when you really do worry.” She was wise beyond her years. Besides giving me her love, Lily also gave me direction. I went on to get a bachelor’s degree in special education with an emphasis in deaf education.

  I remained friends with Lily and her whole family throughout my college years and beyond. The crush I had on my college professor served me very well. I learned a great deal about life at the hands of a young child.

  Some years later, I was asked to sign the Lord’s Prayer at Lily’s funeral. Everyone there told stories about how this one small life made such a big difference to so many. And, as Lily taught me when she showed me the sign for I love you, “Make sure when you use this sign that you really mean it.”

寻找自己的路

  开始大学生涯的时候，我只有16岁。由于年龄还小，那个地方让我感觉大而令人生畏。我记得我和一大群人排队等待注册，这些人和我年龄相仿。和他们待在一起，我感觉局促不安，缺乏信心。我怎么才能像他们一样看上去信心十足，明确知道自己需要什么呢？

  我没有明确的方向，也不知道自己想要干什么，上大学只是一个必须要经历的步骤。我觉得很不自在。对我来说，我周围的这些人体现了我对完美大学生的设想。他们站在那里，和朋友们一起有说有笑，一手端着咖啡，一手拿着课程安排，讨论着这一学期该选什么课程。再看看我，抓着一张纸，上面所列的课程，是前一天晚上我和哥哥千辛万苦才选出来的。假如无法上这些课，一切就都结束了。为自己准备一份选课计划，我从未有过这种想法。我该怎么办？我着急得快要死了。我知道我可以大哭一场，然而，天哪，我是个大学生了。我感到自己孤零零的，神经紧张，就像博物馆里毫无价值的卡通画，与那些馆藏的价值连城的油画根本不可同日而语。

  第一周的课程开始了。在这个他们称之为学校的城市里，我试图找到在哪个地方上课，这很令人沮丧。把车停好已经耗尽了我的全部精力。我觉得难受、不自在，在一个对于我来说混乱、无条理的环境里学习、接受教育，是我最不可能想到的事。我向前挪动着脚步，心里祈祷我能在某个地方找到一丝慰藉。我找到了。

  他走进了我的生活。他走进了这个大礼堂，走进了更像影院而不像教室的大礼堂。他并没有在大厅里的某个位子坐下，而是径直走到大厅的前面，为全班同学讲课。他不但潇洒，而且风趣。我开始利用不同的借口去办公室找他。对我来言，这个陌生而新鲜的世界里又有了新的意义。我开始了虚张声势的打探。这是个好消息。但是坏消息是，我被一个年龄是我两倍的男人所吸引，他结婚了，还有自己的家庭。在这段新的情感经历中，我感觉孤立无援。这是不是意味着我长大了？一切都令我感到迷惘。

  在他所教授的课程上，我的成绩很好。有一天，他问我是否愿意当他的助手，帮他评判试卷、整理档案，并且做一些办公室工作。我想都没想便答应了。时光一周一周地流逝，我们一起分享了许多时光。我知道了怎样边喝咖啡边做哲学长谈。我们成了朋友。

  令我感到惊讶的是，他竟然问我能否帮他照料孩子。我得到了邀请，成了他私人空间的一部分。他给了我他家的地址，并让我这个周四过去。

  我于六点到达他家。他在门口欢迎我：“非常感谢你能来。对我来说，这太重要了。”他向我解释道，他的妻子需要照顾生病的岳母，带走了8个月大的小孩，而他们六岁的女儿莉莉则需要特殊照顾，他希望能找到一个和她合得来的人。

  “莉莉患的是遗传性胰腺病，在她短暂的生命里，大多数时间都是在床上度过的。”当看到他的眼中流露出对他女儿的疼爱时，我的心都要碎了。

  他把我领进了她的房间。在一张公主床的中央，有一个金发的小天使坐在那里。在她的床边放着一种呼吸器，这使得整个房间都很怪异。紧接着发生的事情，我没有任何准备。

  “亲爱的，这位就是我跟你说过的女孩。”他向女儿做了个手势。原来莉莉的耳朵也听不到。我惊慌失措。我如何与她沟通？假如有突发情况，我该怎么办？

  “她的语言表达能力还好，能够让你懂得她在说什么，你或许能够学会一些手语。我只离开一两个小时。”他把紧急情况下能够用到的号码和有关信息留给我，然后便走了。

  我和莉莉坐在床上，她的小手指便开始舞动起来。我耸了耸肩膀，以便让她明白我不知道她在说什么。她露出了甜甜的微笑，然后便开口说话。她解释道，她用手指进行交流时，呼吸比较顺畅。那天晚上，我第一次学习了手语。

  接下来的几个月，我陪伴莉莉度过了一段很长的时光。我慢慢明白了莉莉的爸爸，一个为人父为人夫的男人。我改变了对他的迷恋。现在，我迷上了他的女儿。她教会我许多东西。我不但学会了怎样使用手语，还学会了如何珍视生命中的每一刻，懂得了因为无关紧要的事情而烦心是多么愚蠢的一件事。她教我怎么用手语表达“愚蠢”：握紧你的右手，敲打前额，仿佛要敲进去似的。这时，我们都笑了。我装着把脑袋敲得太厉害，打得疼痛时，她笑了。然后，她打手势告诉我：“假如你烦恼的话，同样会伤到自己。”她的智慧超过了她的年龄，莉莉不但给我爱，也给我以指导。后来，我又攻读了以聋哑教育为主的特殊教育学士学位。

  我和莉莉及她的全家人的友谊一直贯穿我的整个大学时代及以后的日子。对大学教授的迷恋使我受益匪浅。一个孩子的手让我懂得了许多生活的真谛。

  几年之后，我被叫去在莉莉的葬礼上签主祷文。那里的每个人都讲述了这个幼小的生命如何让众多人的生活发生改变。就像莉莉做给我看“我爱你”的手势时教我的那样：“当你做这个手势的时候，你必须确信你真的是这个意思。