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lasked my grandpa what it felt like to grow old. He pondered this question while we sat in his office overbokng the yard， the same yard I pulbd weeds in when lw as a boy.
Grandpa and I spent m any hours during my summ er vacations from elem entary schoolw oring in the yard. We started in the aftemoon when the sun was near its zenithh.
My main job was weed patrol I carried around a plastic bucket and was tasked to eradicat any invader that grew in the yard. And while I was puirng weeds， Grandpa was perfo rming the gam orous work， excavating the rich Ca lifo mia soilfor a new
addition to his ever expanding yard. He grew tom atoes on metalstakes. and plnted straw berries， lettuce and radishes in the ground. When they were ripe for picking. he'd bring them in side to Grandm a's kitchen so they could be prepared.
Grandpa was an artist. The yard and ga rden were his canvases. the fbwers and plants were his palette of pa in ts. He was constantly bent over on alfours honing his art， the knees of his jeans sta ined brow n.
At the end of the day， in the early evening， the air would become crisp and cooL Before calling it quits， Grandpa and l would wash up and get a drink of water at the hose on the side of the house. Grandpa would give the t-hand le on the spigot a tum or two. The limp hose would stiffen， and then he'd cup his hand undemeath the hose， the water pooling in his paIm. He'd lift his hand to his m outh and drink. quenching his thirst with each sup.
Grandpa leamed this technique out of necessity whib grow ing up on a farm in Mam re Tow nshpip， Minnesota during the 1920s and 30s. There was a suction water pump outside the farm house， and he'd have to work the handle with one hand and place his free hand beneath the spout. A nd I found it strange he still em p byed this m ethod six ty yea rs later.
I tried im itating him and drink ing from my hand. too. but I could never clench my fingers tight enough. The water would srp through my hand and drbble wastefuly to the ground.
Grandpa took a ip of his black tea， still ponde ring my question on aging. And without ever takng his eyes from the window， grandpa then asked me a question. “H ave you ever been n a hot shower when the water ran cold？” told him lhad.
“T hat's what aging feels like，” he said. “ln the beg inning of your life it's like you're taking a hot shower. At first the water is too warm， but you get used to the heat and begn enjoyng it. When you're young， you think it's going to be this way fo rever. Life goes on like this for a while.” “But you begn to feel it som ew here betw een your forties and fifties. The water tem perature drops just the slightest bit. lt's almost im perceptbb， but you know it happened and you know what it means. You try to pretend like you didn't feel it. but you still tum the faucet up to stay warm . But the water keeps going lUkew arm. One day you rea lize the faucet can't go any further. and from here on out the tem perature beg ins to drop-you gradua lly feel the wamth leaving your body.”
Grandpa Cba red his throat and pulled a stained handkerchief from his flannel shirt pocket. He lolew his nose， balled up the handkerchief and put it away. “lt's a rather he loless fee ling， truth told. The Water is still pleasant， but you know it’llsoon become cold and there's nothing you can do about it. I knew a few peopb in my time who decided to leave the show er on their own termS.They knew it Was never going to get warmer， so Why prolong the inev itable？l W as abb to stay in because l contented my self reca lling the show ers of my youth.I lived a good life， but stillw ish l hadn't taken my younger years for granted. But it's too late now， and no matter how hard l try， I’llnever get the hot water back onagain.”
我和爷爷坐在他办公室里俯瞰外面的院子，我小时候就在这个院子里拔草。我问爷爷变老是什么感觉，他对这个问题陷入了沉思。
我从小学开始，每到暑假，我和爷爷总是花很多时间在院子里干活。我们从下午太阳当头的时候开始干。
我的主要工作是搜寻杂草。我提着一个塑料桶四处转悠，任务是清除院子里徒长的所有杂草。我拔杂草时，爷爷就会进行那项伟大的工程一挖掘肥沃的加州土壤，填充到不断扩大的院子里。他在金属篱笆桩上种植西红柿，在地上种植草莓、生菜和萝卜。一旦蔬菜水果成熟可采摘时，他就将其送入奶奶的厨房，以备烹饪和享用。
爷爷是一个艺术家。院子和花园是他的画布，花草和植物就是他的调色板。他不停地弯腰，四肢着地，雕琢他的艺术品，牛仔裤的膝盖处被染成了棕色。
在一天结束的时候，傍晚时分，空气变得清新凉爽。收工前，爷爷和我总会洗一洗，通过房子旁边的水管畅饮一番。爷爷总是将龙头上的丁字把手拧一两下。柔软的软管就会变硬，然后他将手捧在软管下面，用手掌接水。他举起手送到嘴边大喝特喝，每一口都是那么解渴。
1920年到1930年间，爷爷在明尼苏达州幔利镇的一个农场长大，出于必要，他学会了这种喝水方法。在农舍外面有一个吸水泵，他不得不用一只手操作把手，把他的另一只空手放在喷嘴下面。我感到奇怪的是六十年后的今天他仍然使用这种方法。
我试着模仿他，用手捧水喝，可是，我的手指总也并得不够紧。水总是从我的手中流走，滴到地上糟蹋了。
爷爷抿了一口红茶，仍然在思考我刚才问的问题。爷爷没有把眼睛从窗口移开，反问我一个问题。“你有没有碰到过在热水淋浴时水突然变凉的情况？”
我告诉他有过。
“这就是衰老的感觉，”他说，“人生一开始，就像你洗热水澡。起初，水太热，但你慢慢习惯了热，开始喜欢这种热。当你年轻时，你认为它会永远这样。生活就这样持续一段时间
“但你四五十岁时就会开始感觉到变老。水温就那么下降一点点。几乎感觉不到，但你知道已经发生，你知道这意味着什么。你极力假装自己并没有感觉到变老，但你仍然需要把水龙头拧大以保持温暖。但水还是一直不冷不热的。早晚有一天，你会意识到水龙头己拧到最大，从现在开始温度就开始下降一你逐渐感到温暖正在离开你的身体。”
爷爷清了清嗓子，从他的法兰绒衬衫口袋里掏出一块脏兮兮的手帕。他使劲擤了擤鼻子，团起手帕擦了擦。
“这真是一种无助的感觉，实话告诉你吧。水还是那么舒服，但你知道它很快就会变凉，你无能为力。我那个时代认识的几个人决定以自己的方式离开淋浴水。他们知道水是永远不会再变热了，何必拖延那不可避免的到来呢？我能留下来是因为我通过回忆自己年轻时的淋浴取悦自己。我生活得很好，但仍然希望我没有认为年轻岁月是理所当然的。无奈现已太挽.不管我多努力，我再也得不到那些热水了。”
Grandpa and I spent m any hours during my summ er vacations from elem entary schoolw oring in the yard. We started in the aftemoon when the sun was near its zenithh.
My main job was weed patrol I carried around a plastic bucket and was tasked to eradicat any invader that grew in the yard. And while I was puirng weeds， Grandpa was perfo rming the gam orous work， excavating the rich Ca lifo mia soilfor a new
addition to his ever expanding yard. He grew tom atoes on metalstakes. and plnted straw berries， lettuce and radishes in the ground. When they were ripe for picking. he'd bring them in side to Grandm a's kitchen so they could be prepared.
Grandpa was an artist. The yard and ga rden were his canvases. the fbwers and plants were his palette of pa in ts. He was constantly bent over on alfours honing his art， the knees of his jeans sta ined brow n.
At the end of the day， in the early evening， the air would become crisp and cooL Before calling it quits， Grandpa and l would wash up and get a drink of water at the hose on the side of the house. Grandpa would give the t-hand le on the spigot a tum or two. The limp hose would stiffen， and then he'd cup his hand undemeath the hose， the water pooling in his paIm. He'd lift his hand to his m outh and drink. quenching his thirst with each sup.
Grandpa leamed this technique out of necessity whib grow ing up on a farm in Mam re Tow nshpip， Minnesota during the 1920s and 30s. There was a suction water pump outside the farm house， and he'd have to work the handle with one hand and place his free hand beneath the spout. A nd I found it strange he still em p byed this m ethod six ty yea rs later.
I tried im itating him and drink ing from my hand. too. but I could never clench my fingers tight enough. The water would srp through my hand and drbble wastefuly to the ground.
Grandpa took a ip of his black tea， still ponde ring my question on aging. And without ever takng his eyes from the window， grandpa then asked me a question. “H ave you ever been n a hot shower when the water ran cold？” told him lhad.
“T hat's what aging feels like，” he said. “ln the beg inning of your life it's like you're taking a hot shower. At first the water is too warm， but you get used to the heat and begn enjoyng it. When you're young， you think it's going to be this way fo rever. Life goes on like this for a while.” “But you begn to feel it som ew here betw een your forties and fifties. The water tem perature drops just the slightest bit. lt's almost im perceptbb， but you know it happened and you know what it means. You try to pretend like you didn't feel it. but you still tum the faucet up to stay warm . But the water keeps going lUkew arm. One day you rea lize the faucet can't go any further. and from here on out the tem perature beg ins to drop-you gradua lly feel the wamth leaving your body.”
Grandpa Cba red his throat and pulled a stained handkerchief from his flannel shirt pocket. He lolew his nose， balled up the handkerchief and put it away. “lt's a rather he loless fee ling， truth told. The Water is still pleasant， but you know it’llsoon become cold and there's nothing you can do about it. I knew a few peopb in my time who decided to leave the show er on their own termS.They knew it Was never going to get warmer， so Why prolong the inev itable？l W as abb to stay in because l contented my self reca lling the show ers of my youth.I lived a good life， but stillw ish l hadn't taken my younger years for granted. But it's too late now， and no matter how hard l try， I’llnever get the hot water back onagain.”
我和爷爷坐在他办公室里俯瞰外面的院子，我小时候就在这个院子里拔草。我问爷爷变老是什么感觉，他对这个问题陷入了沉思。
我从小学开始，每到暑假，我和爷爷总是花很多时间在院子里干活。我们从下午太阳当头的时候开始干。
我的主要工作是搜寻杂草。我提着一个塑料桶四处转悠，任务是清除院子里徒长的所有杂草。我拔杂草时，爷爷就会进行那项伟大的工程一挖掘肥沃的加州土壤，填充到不断扩大的院子里。他在金属篱笆桩上种植西红柿，在地上种植草莓、生菜和萝卜。一旦蔬菜水果成熟可采摘时，他就将其送入奶奶的厨房，以备烹饪和享用。
爷爷是一个艺术家。院子和花园是他的画布，花草和植物就是他的调色板。他不停地弯腰，四肢着地，雕琢他的艺术品，牛仔裤的膝盖处被染成了棕色。
在一天结束的时候，傍晚时分，空气变得清新凉爽。收工前，爷爷和我总会洗一洗，通过房子旁边的水管畅饮一番。爷爷总是将龙头上的丁字把手拧一两下。柔软的软管就会变硬，然后他将手捧在软管下面，用手掌接水。他举起手送到嘴边大喝特喝，每一口都是那么解渴。
1920年到1930年间，爷爷在明尼苏达州幔利镇的一个农场长大，出于必要，他学会了这种喝水方法。在农舍外面有一个吸水泵，他不得不用一只手操作把手，把他的另一只空手放在喷嘴下面。我感到奇怪的是六十年后的今天他仍然使用这种方法。
我试着模仿他，用手捧水喝，可是，我的手指总也并得不够紧。水总是从我的手中流走，滴到地上糟蹋了。
爷爷抿了一口红茶，仍然在思考我刚才问的问题。爷爷没有把眼睛从窗口移开，反问我一个问题。“你有没有碰到过在热水淋浴时水突然变凉的情况？”
我告诉他有过。
“这就是衰老的感觉，”他说，“人生一开始，就像你洗热水澡。起初，水太热，但你慢慢习惯了热，开始喜欢这种热。当你年轻时，你认为它会永远这样。生活就这样持续一段时间
“但你四五十岁时就会开始感觉到变老。水温就那么下降一点点。几乎感觉不到，但你知道已经发生，你知道这意味着什么。你极力假装自己并没有感觉到变老，但你仍然需要把水龙头拧大以保持温暖。但水还是一直不冷不热的。早晚有一天，你会意识到水龙头己拧到最大，从现在开始温度就开始下降一你逐渐感到温暖正在离开你的身体。”
爷爷清了清嗓子，从他的法兰绒衬衫口袋里掏出一块脏兮兮的手帕。他使劲擤了擤鼻子，团起手帕擦了擦。
“这真是一种无助的感觉，实话告诉你吧。水还是那么舒服，但你知道它很快就会变凉，你无能为力。我那个时代认识的几个人决定以自己的方式离开淋浴水。他们知道水是永远不会再变热了，何必拖延那不可避免的到来呢？我能留下来是因为我通过回忆自己年轻时的淋浴取悦自己。我生活得很好，但仍然希望我没有认为年轻岁月是理所当然的。无奈现已太挽.不管我多努力，我再也得不到那些热水了。”