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Every morning， I go walking with my daughters.
The first half of our 1）jaunt goes quickly. The elementary school up the road starts at 9：05， and we don’t want to be late. We stroll 2）briskly uphill to the top of our quiet street， cut through a narrow 3）fringe of woods on a dirt path， and emerge at the end of the school playground. There， I hug my kindergartner goodbye and send her on her way， hot pink backpack bobbing behind her.
Then my 4-year-old and I turn around and start back.
This is a different sort of walk， one that lasts just as long as I am willing to let it. We cover the same one-third of a mile， but our pace is slower now， our path 4）meandering， as we pause to probe the mysteries along the way. Emerging from the woods and back onto the street， we stop and sit a minute on a pair of cold gray boulders at the pathway entrance， me on the larger one and Poesy on the small one. Then we 5）make a beeline for the storm drain in the street， so she can crouch and peer into the darkness far below. She practices skipping. She jumps over 6）puddles before she 7）wades into them. She plays with her shadow， raising her arms high； she stops to chat with an old man weeding his garden. Her attention constantly revolves， drawn by dogs， feathers， eye-catching pebbles. Some days she takes up a collection， stuffing her hands full of treasures， delegating me to carry what she can’t.
It’s easy to become impatient with this kind of walking. Morning is not my favorite time of day； it’s not a time I’m ever 8）pining for companionship. My natural inclination is to walk fast， to get where I’m going while planning my attack on the day ahead. My daughter and I both have places to be—she is due at preschool， while I must get to work—and though I know we’re lucky to have this time together， I can’t forget the clock is ticking as we wander homeward. Still， I try to follow Poesy’s lead as we go walking， to embrace her leisure and engagement with the world. Instead of 9）lamenting our halting， 10）zigzag progress， I ease my pace， quiet my mind， and strive to pay attention.
She finds a twig and a leaf and， animated with excitement， shows me how， together， they make a tiny flag. We pass a 11）sprinkler twirling in a sunlit yard and she spies a perfect rainbow hovering in the mist.“Mommy，” she says， breathless with amazement， “look！”One morning we move quietly through fog， watching how it blurs the distant edges of our route. Another day we come upon a shiny black Camaro. The curve of the car’s door compresses her reflection， making her look tiny， like a 2-year-old. She stands there staring at her toddler-sized self， 12）mesmerized by the glimpse into her past. Watching her， I feel the rush of time， and I realize just how soon these walks of ours will end. Come September she will be in kindergarten； I will leave both girls at school and walk home on my own. These slow morning rambles with my 4-year-old—the new day glimmering around us， the sun warm on our backs—are the most fleeting kind of pleasure. I’ll try to remember， later， what she did and said， but the feeling of the moment， sweet and simple， will be gone.
I stop walking， looking over my shoulder for Poesy. When she gets to me， I reach down and take her hand.
每天早上，我都会和女儿们步行。
我们的前半段路程走得很快。路前方那间小学在9点零5分上课，我们不想迟到。我们疾步走到安静的街道上坡，抄一条泥路穿过一小片树林，到达学校的操场边。在那里我跟上学前班的女儿拥抱挥别，目送她远去，她身后那鲜亮的粉红背包一跳一弹的。
然后我和我4岁的女儿便转身往回走。
这是另一种步行方式，一种我想走多久就走多久的步行方式。我们的路程还是同样那三分之一英里，但现在我们的步伐慢了下来，我们会停步探究沿路的神秘事物，我们的路线变得蜿蜒曲折。从树林里出来，我们回到街道上。我们会在小径入口处的两块冷灰色的大圆石上坐一会儿，我坐在较大的那块上，波茜坐在较小的那块上。然后我们便奔向街道的排水沟，她蹲伏窥视水沟下的黑暗深处。她练习蹦跳，跳过路上的水坑，举高手与自己的影子玩耍，停下来与一位正在打理花园的老爷爷聊天。她的注意力不停地转换，转到狗狗上、羽毛上、抢眼的鹅卵石上。有时候，她会把路上的一些东西收集起来，手里抓满她的珍藏品，还委派我拿一些她拿不了的东西。
这种步行方式很容易就会让人感觉不耐烦。早晨不是我在一天当中最喜欢的时段，在这个时段我从不渴望别人的陪伴。我倾向于疾走，一边走向目的地，一边提前思考一天的计划。我和女儿都有各自要去的地方——她要去上幼儿园，而我得去上班，虽然我明白像这样的母女共处时光很难得，但我无法忘记在我们漫步归家的同时，时间在一秒一秒地过去。尽管如此，我还是努力跟随着波茜的脚步，体会她的闲情逸趣以及她与世界的交流。我没有抱怨我们那走走停停，迂回曲折的归程，而是放缓步伐，静下心来关注她的一举一动。
她找到了一条小树枝和一片叶子，兴高采烈地向我展示如何把它们拼凑成一面小旗子。我们经过一个洒满阳光的庭院，里面有一个正在旋转的洒水机，她发现了一道完美的彩虹悬浮在薄雾中。“妈妈，”她说道，惊奇地屏住了呼吸，“看！”一天早上，我们静静地穿梭在雾中，看着道路前方被雾气模糊了的景物。另一天，我们看到了一辆闪亮的黑色雪佛兰科迈罗。车门的曲线压缩了她的倒影，看起来个头小小的，像个两岁孩童。她站在那里凝视着幼童般大小的自己，被过去的自己深深地吸引住了。
看着她，我感到岁月飞逝，意识到不用多久，我们母女间这样的散步就会结束。当9月到来时，她就会开始上学前班，我将会把两个女儿留在学校，然后独自一人回家。这些与我4岁女儿在清晨漫步的闲适时光是最最短暂的快乐，新的一天渐渐来到我们身边，晨曦温暖着我们的后背。今后，我会竭力记住她做过的事，说过的话，但是当下那种甜蜜而简单的感觉将会不复存在。
我停下了脚步，转头越过肩膀看向波茜。她向我走来，我弯下腰，牵住了她的手。
The first half of our 1）jaunt goes quickly. The elementary school up the road starts at 9：05， and we don’t want to be late. We stroll 2）briskly uphill to the top of our quiet street， cut through a narrow 3）fringe of woods on a dirt path， and emerge at the end of the school playground. There， I hug my kindergartner goodbye and send her on her way， hot pink backpack bobbing behind her.
Then my 4-year-old and I turn around and start back.
This is a different sort of walk， one that lasts just as long as I am willing to let it. We cover the same one-third of a mile， but our pace is slower now， our path 4）meandering， as we pause to probe the mysteries along the way. Emerging from the woods and back onto the street， we stop and sit a minute on a pair of cold gray boulders at the pathway entrance， me on the larger one and Poesy on the small one. Then we 5）make a beeline for the storm drain in the street， so she can crouch and peer into the darkness far below. She practices skipping. She jumps over 6）puddles before she 7）wades into them. She plays with her shadow， raising her arms high； she stops to chat with an old man weeding his garden. Her attention constantly revolves， drawn by dogs， feathers， eye-catching pebbles. Some days she takes up a collection， stuffing her hands full of treasures， delegating me to carry what she can’t.
It’s easy to become impatient with this kind of walking. Morning is not my favorite time of day； it’s not a time I’m ever 8）pining for companionship. My natural inclination is to walk fast， to get where I’m going while planning my attack on the day ahead. My daughter and I both have places to be—she is due at preschool， while I must get to work—and though I know we’re lucky to have this time together， I can’t forget the clock is ticking as we wander homeward. Still， I try to follow Poesy’s lead as we go walking， to embrace her leisure and engagement with the world. Instead of 9）lamenting our halting， 10）zigzag progress， I ease my pace， quiet my mind， and strive to pay attention.
She finds a twig and a leaf and， animated with excitement， shows me how， together， they make a tiny flag. We pass a 11）sprinkler twirling in a sunlit yard and she spies a perfect rainbow hovering in the mist.“Mommy，” she says， breathless with amazement， “look！”One morning we move quietly through fog， watching how it blurs the distant edges of our route. Another day we come upon a shiny black Camaro. The curve of the car’s door compresses her reflection， making her look tiny， like a 2-year-old. She stands there staring at her toddler-sized self， 12）mesmerized by the glimpse into her past. Watching her， I feel the rush of time， and I realize just how soon these walks of ours will end. Come September she will be in kindergarten； I will leave both girls at school and walk home on my own. These slow morning rambles with my 4-year-old—the new day glimmering around us， the sun warm on our backs—are the most fleeting kind of pleasure. I’ll try to remember， later， what she did and said， but the feeling of the moment， sweet and simple， will be gone.
I stop walking， looking over my shoulder for Poesy. When she gets to me， I reach down and take her hand.
每天早上，我都会和女儿们步行。
我们的前半段路程走得很快。路前方那间小学在9点零5分上课，我们不想迟到。我们疾步走到安静的街道上坡，抄一条泥路穿过一小片树林，到达学校的操场边。在那里我跟上学前班的女儿拥抱挥别，目送她远去，她身后那鲜亮的粉红背包一跳一弹的。
然后我和我4岁的女儿便转身往回走。
这是另一种步行方式，一种我想走多久就走多久的步行方式。我们的路程还是同样那三分之一英里，但现在我们的步伐慢了下来，我们会停步探究沿路的神秘事物，我们的路线变得蜿蜒曲折。从树林里出来，我们回到街道上。我们会在小径入口处的两块冷灰色的大圆石上坐一会儿，我坐在较大的那块上，波茜坐在较小的那块上。然后我们便奔向街道的排水沟，她蹲伏窥视水沟下的黑暗深处。她练习蹦跳，跳过路上的水坑，举高手与自己的影子玩耍，停下来与一位正在打理花园的老爷爷聊天。她的注意力不停地转换，转到狗狗上、羽毛上、抢眼的鹅卵石上。有时候，她会把路上的一些东西收集起来，手里抓满她的珍藏品，还委派我拿一些她拿不了的东西。
这种步行方式很容易就会让人感觉不耐烦。早晨不是我在一天当中最喜欢的时段，在这个时段我从不渴望别人的陪伴。我倾向于疾走，一边走向目的地，一边提前思考一天的计划。我和女儿都有各自要去的地方——她要去上幼儿园，而我得去上班，虽然我明白像这样的母女共处时光很难得，但我无法忘记在我们漫步归家的同时，时间在一秒一秒地过去。尽管如此，我还是努力跟随着波茜的脚步，体会她的闲情逸趣以及她与世界的交流。我没有抱怨我们那走走停停，迂回曲折的归程，而是放缓步伐，静下心来关注她的一举一动。
她找到了一条小树枝和一片叶子，兴高采烈地向我展示如何把它们拼凑成一面小旗子。我们经过一个洒满阳光的庭院，里面有一个正在旋转的洒水机，她发现了一道完美的彩虹悬浮在薄雾中。“妈妈，”她说道，惊奇地屏住了呼吸，“看！”一天早上，我们静静地穿梭在雾中，看着道路前方被雾气模糊了的景物。另一天，我们看到了一辆闪亮的黑色雪佛兰科迈罗。车门的曲线压缩了她的倒影，看起来个头小小的，像个两岁孩童。她站在那里凝视着幼童般大小的自己，被过去的自己深深地吸引住了。
看着她，我感到岁月飞逝，意识到不用多久，我们母女间这样的散步就会结束。当9月到来时，她就会开始上学前班，我将会把两个女儿留在学校，然后独自一人回家。这些与我4岁女儿在清晨漫步的闲适时光是最最短暂的快乐，新的一天渐渐来到我们身边，晨曦温暖着我们的后背。今后，我会竭力记住她做过的事，说过的话，但是当下那种甜蜜而简单的感觉将会不复存在。
我停下了脚步，转头越过肩膀看向波茜。她向我走来，我弯下腰，牵住了她的手。