故乡英文文章

常言道：“月是故乡圆。”出门在外的游子们如若看到家乡的东西，哪怕只是一草一木，都会备感亲切。下面小编为大家整理的故乡英文文章，希望对大家有用!

故乡英文文章

The weather had been unusually warm for May in Brandon, Mississippi.My wife Pat and I were nursing a Sunday-morning cup of coffee on our deck and watching thunderheads build rapidly into mountainous clouds on the southern horizon.There was barely any breeze, and the humidity was so thick you could almost roll it in your palms.

By the time we finished our second cup, the sky had turned black. Lightning danced across the horizon, accompanied by low, rumbling thunder. Only seconds after the first drops of rain had driven us inside, the phone rang. When Pat picked up the receiver, her face became the only bright spot in that gloomy day.

It was our son, David, an Army helicopter pilot.Three months earlier, he had earned his silver wings and begun a one-year assignment in South Korea, stationed near the demilitarized zone.

David made a valiant effort to sound cheerful, but we knew better from the tone of his voice.As a man who spent time during World War II on a minuscule South Pacific island, I recognized the symptoms of acute homesickness.

Gradually, the curative powers of conversation made us all feel better, until a booming clap of thunder shook the windows only inches from the phone Pat and I were using.

“What was that? ”David asked.“It sounded like an explosion.”

“Just thunder, ”Pat said, “It's been raining here all week.”

There were several seconds of silence.“David, ”I asked, “Are you still there? ”

“I was thinking about what Mother said — ‘just thunder'.Other than the two of you, do you know what I miss most of all — what many of the men say they miss? Thunder.We have rain, wind, snow and some violent storms, but it never thunders.”

“Remember, Dad, when I was a boy? ”he continued.“How the two of us would stretch out on the floor and listen to the thunder? How you'd laugh to keep me from being afraid? ”

“I remember, ”I said, trying to ignore the lump in my throat.

“I wish I were there now to listen with you, ”he said softly.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I got my tape recorder, my large umbrella and a wooden chair.“I'm going to record our son some thunder, ”I told Pat.

“Bob, the neighbors will think you're crazy.”

“David won't, ”I said, and went outside.

With lightning flickering across the sky like a fireworks display, I sat in the driving rain beneath my umbrella and recorded half an hour of the finest Mississippi thunder a lonesome man could ever want to hear.The next day I mailed the tape to David with a single line:“A special gift.”

Three weeks later David called again.This time he was his old self.“Dad, ”he said, “you won't believe what I did last night.I invited some friends over to my quarters for a thunder party.When we heard the tape, we all reacted the same way.Instant silence, followed by a few minutes of sadness.But once we realized we were listening to the sounds of home, we felt better and enjoyed a great party, like we'd been relieved of a heavy burden.I can't tell you how much that tape meant to me, ”he continued, “I can make it now.Thanks, Dad!It really was a special gift.”

It also became a special gift for Pat and me.For the next eight months, while David was in Korea, we found ourselves looking forward to thunderstorms.Rather than feeling depressed on gloomy days, we came to regard the storms as special.Each rumble seemed to tie us closer to a son so far from home.

故乡的声音

密西西比州的布兰顿，五月的天气异常闷热。周日早上，我和妻子帕特坐在露天阳台上，一边品尝着咖啡一边远望着南边地平线，雷雨云砧正迅速堆积成云山。那会儿几乎没有一丝风，空气异常潮湿，厚重到简直能把它卷在手掌里。

当我们喝完第二杯咖啡时，天空已乌云密布。伴着低沉的隆隆声，闪电划过地平线。就在我们被雨水赶进屋的几秒钟后，电话铃响了。当帕特拿起电话筒时，她喜悦的脸庞成了阴沉天气里的唯一亮点。

电话是我们的儿子戴维打来的。他是名陆军直升机飞行员。三个月前，戴维获得了银质奖章，然后就被派驻到韩国非军事区附近，开始为期一年的任务。

戴维尽量使自己的声音听起来很愉快，但从他的语气中我们知道他并不快乐。作为一名二战期间曾在南太平洋小岛上服役过的老兵，我能感受到他浓厚的思乡之情。

好在谈话就像一剂良药，渐渐地，我们都觉得好受了些。突然，一声雷鸣震动了离电话机咫尺远的玻璃窗。

“那是什么声音?”戴维问道。“听着像是爆炸声。”

“不过是雷声，”帕特说，“我们这里整个星期雨水不断。”

电话那边片刻的沉默。“戴维，”我问，“你还在那儿吗?”

“我在想妈妈说的话——‘不过是雷声’。除了你们俩之外，知道我最想念的是什么——我们这里许多军人所想念的是什么吗?是雷声。这里下雨，刮风，下雪，有时甚至有暴风雨，却从不打雷。”

“你还记得吗，爸爸，我还是个孩子时，”他接着说，“咱俩是怎样伸直了身子躺在地板上聆听雷声的吗?你又是怎样哈哈大笑，为了不让我们感到害怕的吗?”

“我记得。”我说着，尽量克制哽咽的嗓音。

“真希望这会儿能和你在一起聆听那儿的雷声。”他轻轻地说。

一挂上电话，我就拿起录音机、大柄伞和一把木椅。“我去给儿子录雷声。”我对帕特说。

“鲍伯，邻居们会以为你疯了。”

“可戴维不会。”说完，我就向外走去。

闪电像烟火般在天空忽隐忽现。倾盆大雨中，我坐在伞下，录了半个小时的雷声，一个寂寞的人想听到密西西比河最动听的雷声。第二天，我把磁带寄给了戴维，上面仅写着：“一份特别的礼物。”

三周后，戴维又打电话来。这次他又恢复了以前的开朗。“爸爸，”他说，“你不会相信昨晚我做了什么。我邀请了一些战友来我宿舍举行了一场雷声晚会，大家听到磁带后的反应都一样，先是瞬间的沉默，接着难过了一阵。可一旦想到这是来自家乡的声音，大家就好受多了。我们尽情享受这个美妙的晚会，就像刚卸下沉重的包袱一样。你不知道，这盘磁带对我有多重要。”他接着说，“我现在没事了，谢谢你，爸爸!这真是一份特别的礼物。”

对我和帕特来说，雷声也成了一份特别的礼物。在这之后戴维仍留在韩国的八个月里，我们发觉自己总是盼望着雷雨的来临。在阴沉的天气里，我们不再沮丧，而是把暴风雨视为一份特殊的礼物。每一声隆隆的雷声都似乎拉近了我们和远在他乡的儿子之间的距离。