唯美愛情英語美文欣賞
愛情是人與人之間的強烈的依戀、親近、向往，以及無私專一并且無所不盡其心的情感。下面學習啦小編為大家?guī)砦缾矍?a href='http://regraff.com/english/xiezuo/meiwen/' target='_blank'>英語美文欣賞，歡迎大家閱讀!
唯美愛情英語美文欣賞：浪漫的道路多曲折
Located in the checkroom in Union Station as I am, I see everybody that comes up the stairs.
Harry came in a little over three years ago and waited at the head of the stairs for the passengers from the 9:05 train.
I remember seeing Harry that first evening. He wasn't much more than a thin, anxious kid then. He was all dressed up and I knew he was meeting his girl and that they would be married twenty minutes after she arrived.
Well, the passengers came up and I had to get busy. I didn't look toward the stairs again until nearly time for the 9:18 and I was very surprised to see that the young fellow was still there.
She didn't come on the 9:18 either, nor on the 9:40, and when the passengers from the 10:02 had all arrived and left, Harry was looking pretty desperate. Pretty soon he came close to my window so I called out and asked him what she looked like.
"She's small and dark," he said, "and nineteen years old and very neat in the way she walks. She has a face," he said, thinking a minute, "that has lots of spirit. I mean she can get mad but she never stays mad for long, and her eyebrows come to a little point in the middle. She's got a brown fur, but maybe she isn't wearing it."
I couldn't remember seeing anybody like that.
He showed me the telegram he'd received: ARRIVE THURSDAY. MEET ME STATION. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE. MAY. It was from Omaha, Nebraska.
"Well," I finally said, "why don't you phone to your home? She's probably called there if she got in ahead of you."
He gave me a sick look. "I've only been in town two days. We were going to meet and then drive down South where I've got a job. She hasn't any address for me." He touched the telegram.
When I came on duty the next day he was still there and came over as soon as he saw me.
"Did she work anywhere?" I asked.
He nodded. "She was a typist. I telegraphed her former boss. All they know is that she left her job to get married."
Harry met every train for the next three or four days. Of course, the railroad lines made a routine checkup and the police looked into the case. But nobody was any real help. I could see that they all figured that May had simply played a trick on him. But I never believed that, somehow.
One day, after about two weeks, Harry and I were talking and I told him about my theory. "If you'll just wait long enough," I said, "you'll see her coming up those stairs some day." He turned and looked at the stairs as though he had never seen them before.
The next day when I came to work Harry was behind the counter of Tony's magazine stand. He looked at me rather sheepishly and said, "Well, I had to get a job somewhere, didn't I?"
So he began to work as a clerk for Tony. We never spoke of May anymore and neither of us ever mentioned my theory. But I noticed that Harry always saw every person who came up the stairs.
Toward the end of the year Tony was killed in some argument over gambling, and Tony's widow left Harry in complete charge of the magazine stand. And when she got married again some time later, Harry bought the stand from her. He borrowed money and installed a soda fountain and pretty soon he had a very nice little business.
Then came yesterday. I heard a cry and a lot of things falling. The cry was from Harry and the things falling were a lot of dolls and other things which he had upset while he was jumping over the counter. He ran across and grabbed a girl not ten feet from my window. She was small and dark and her eyebrows came to a little point in the middle.
For a while they just hung there to each other laughing and crying and saying things without meaning. She'd say a few words like, "It was the bus station I meant" and he'd kiss her speechless and tell her the many things he had done to find her. What apparently had happeded three years before was that May had come by bus, not by train, and in her telegram she meant "bus station," not "railroad station." She had waited at the bus station for days and had spent all her money trying to find Harry. Finally she got a job typing.
"What?" said Harry. "Have you been working in town? All the time?"
She nodded.
"Well, Heavens. Didn't you ever come down here to the station?" He pointed across to his magazine stand. "I've been there all the time. I own it. I've watched everybody that came up the stairs."
She began to look a little pale. Pretty soon she looked over at the stairs and said in a weak voice, "I never came up the stairs before. You see, I went out of town yesterday on a short business trip. Oh, Harry!" Then she threw her arms around his neck and really began to cry.
After a minute she backed away and pointed very stiffly toward the north end of the station. "Harry, for three years, for three solid years, I've been right over there working right in this very station, typing, in the office of the stationmaster."
唯美愛情英語美文欣賞：她孤身一人卻并不孤單
Marjorie Baer used to joke about her retirement plans. She wasn't married and had no kids, but she didn't intend to be alone—she and all her single friends would move into a fictional home she called Casa de Biddies. Instead, Baer developed terminal brain cancer when she was 52. But just as she'd hoped, her friends and family provided her with love and care to the end.
Baer's friends Lee Ballance and Mary Selkirk were walking their dog one afternoon in July 2006 when they saw an ambulance in front of her house. Baer had had a seizure and collapsed. Ballance, a physician, hopped in his car and followed the ambulance to the hospital to be at Baer's side while doctors tried to figure out what was going on. When they did, the news wasn't good: She had glioblastoma multiforme, a particularly aggressive form of brain cancer.
Ballance was only the first of Baer's friends who became her unofficial caregivers. Until her brother Phil Baer put his marriage and work in Los Angeles on hold to care for his sister during her final weeks, they cobbled together a system to watch over their friend and allow her to keep some of the privacy and independence she cherished.
Baer's good friend Ruth Henrich took the lead. That seemed natural: Henrich, then 58, and Baer both worked in publishing and lived in the same duplex. Though busy in her job as an associate managing editor at salon.com, Henrich took Baer to doctors' appointments and helped her deal with all the aspects of life that were becoming increasingly mysterious to her—answering machines, TV controls, and even phone numbers. After Henrich sent out an e-mail request, a group of volunteers signed up to ferry Baer back and forth to radiation therapy. Others in Baer's circle offered up particular talents: A nurse friend helped Baer figure out how to get what she was due from Social Security and her disability insurance; an attorney pal helped Baer with her will; a buddy who was an accountant took over her bills when she could no longer manage them. "There was this odd sense that the right person always showed up," says Ballance.
Not that it was easy. "I had to know at all times who was going to be there and anticipate what Marjorie would need next, so it was always on my mind," says Henrich. "It was something I wanted to do, but it also never went away." Still, their jury-rigged arrangement worked remarkably well. Even as Baer lost the ability to read and write and engage in conversation over the course of the year, she was able to continue to live on her own, walk to the market, take the subway to painting classes, and even fly to Iowa by herself to visit her brother Tom and his family.
"She was a generous person," says another friend, Elizabeth Whipple, "and it came back to her in truckloads."
Unmarried women are one of the fastest-growing demographic groups in America, and increasing numbers of men are remaining single, too; experts are concerned about how caregiving will be managed for both groups as they age. If the experience of Baer's friends is a guide, the Internet will play a role. It's already making it possible to create communities of caregivers who may have only one thing in common: the person who needs their help. On personal "care pages" set up through services such as Lotsa Helping Hands, friends and family members can post a list of tasks that need to be done, volunteer to do them, and keep updated on the person's condition. As Baer's cancer progressed, for example, her friends set up a page on Yahoo! where people could sign up to deliver meals or do errands.
Eventually, their help wasn't enough. One morning, a year after Baer's diagnosis, Henrich checked in before work and found Baer on the floor. Though she wore a panic button on a chain around her neck, she hadn't used it. "I don't know how long she had been there," Henrich says.
That was when Baer's brother Phil stepped in. He and Tom had taken turns earlier making trips to Berkeley to care for their sister; now Phil, who lived in Los Angeles, took leave from his job as head of air-conditioning and heating at CBS Studio Center—and from his understanding wife, Joyce—to care for Baer full-time. "There was just no question in my mind that I would do anything I could, including switch places with Marjorie," he says. "It made me realize how much I loved her."
For the next few weeks, Phil looked after her during the day. He oversaw the nighttime caregivers and consulted with the hospice workers who assisted with medical issues and helped him prepare for Baer's death. But even then, his sister's loyal friends were irreplaceable, he says, providing both practical and emotional sustenance.
Several of Baer's friends were there when she died. "We were all trying to help ease her passing," says Whipple. "Phil put his hands on her chest, and she let go."
Catherine Fox, one of the friends who was present when Baer died, was deeply affected. "It was so comforting to know that if you're willing to ask for help, the generosity of family and friends can be phenomenal. It makes me feel secure and hopeful to know that help is there when you need it."
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