Waiting for the Breeze

Lie in bed, by an open window, and listen......
"No air conditioning? How can you sleep?" a friend asks, horrified. I've just revealed that my family has decided to shut the air conditioner off and trim[1] our electric bill.
"Nobody opens a window, day or night," warns another friend, whose windows have been painted shut for a decade. "This is the '90s. It's not safe."
On this first night of our cost-cutting adventure, it's only 85 degrees. We're not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble anyway.
They've grown up in 72-degree comfort, insulated from the world outside.
"How do you open these windows?" my husband asks. Jiggling the metal rabs, he finally releases one. A potpourri of bug bodies decorates the sill. As we spring the windows one by one, the night noises howl outside-and in.
"It's too hot to sleep," my 13-year-old daughter moans. "I'm about to die from this heat," her brother hollers down the hall. "Just try it tonight," I tell them. In truth I'm too tired to argue for long. My face is sweaty, but I lie quietly listening to the cricket choirs outside that remind me of childhood.
The neighbor's dog howls. Probably a trespassing squirrel. It's been years since I've taken the time to really listen to the night.
I think about Grandma, who lived to 92 and still supervised my Mom's gardening until just a few weeks before she died. And then, I'm back there at her house in the summer heat of my childhood. I move my pillow to the foot of Grandma's bed and angle my face toward the open window. I flip[2] the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.
Grandma sees me thrashing[3]. "If you'll just watch for the breeze," she says, "you'll cool off and fall asleep." She cranks up the Venetian blinds. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter. Lying still, waiting, I suddenly notice the life outside the window. The bug chorus "Neighbors, porch-sitting late, speak in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
"Mom, did you hear that?" my seven-year-old blurts. "I think it was an owl family."
　　"Probably," I tell him. "Just keep listening--- "
Without the droning[4]air conditioner, the house is oddly peaceful, and the unfiltered night noises seem close enough to touch. I hope I'm awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in.

　　窗边静躺，细心聆听……

　　“不开空调？能睡得着吗？”听说我要为了节电而把家里的空调关掉时，我的朋友一脸惊愕。

　　“现在可是九十年代了，你居然敢开窗？”另一个朋友警告说，“不管是白天还是晚上都太不安全了！”他们家的窗户已经尘封了十年。

　　在大胆尝试节电的第一天晚上，气温不过华氏85度而已。我们不觉得难受，孩子们却抱怨连天。

　　他们是在72度的温室里被呵护长大的小花，与外界的风霜寒暑根本无缘。

　　“这些窗户该怎么打开呢？”先生摇动着插销，终于拔出了一根。由于多年没有清理，窗台早已变成昆虫标本展览会了。窗户被一扇一扇地弹开，一直萦绕在外的夜声顿时传了进来。

　　“太热了！怎么睡啊！”我那十三岁的女儿不停地嘀咕。 “我快被热死了，”她弟弟的牢骚也从客厅的另一头传了过来。 我只好说：“今晚就试着忍一忍好吗？”其实我根本没有力气再向他们多作解释。脸上出汗了。我静静地躺着，聆听着窗外蟋蟀的合奏曲，思绪被牵回到了童年的时光。

　　邻居的狗也扯开了嗓子，是不是一只小松鼠闯进来了？我已经好几年没有工夫静下心来品味夜的倾诉了。

　　这时禁不住想起了外婆，直到去世前的几个星期，她一直都帮助妈妈护理着花园。回到了童年炎热的夏季，回到了外婆的小屋。那时我把枕头移到床尾，脸对着窗，还是热。于是我不停地翻动枕头，让比较凉的一面朝上。

　　看到我翻来覆去地睡不着，外婆说：“只要用心去感受和祈盼，风会来的，这样你就可以一身清凉地进入梦乡了。”她把百叶窗拉了起来，于是我便一直注视着薄薄的白窗帘，等待它的飘动。静静地躺着，期盼着，这时我忽然感到了窗外世界的生命。小虫的轻唱，门廊外坐着闲聊的邻居，他们模糊不清的喋喋细语开始催我入眠。

　　“妈妈，你听到了吗？”我那七岁的孩子嚷嚷了起来，“我觉得那是一家子猫头鹰在叫！”

　　“很有可能，再仔细听……”

　　没有了空调机的嗡嗡响，房间里飘溢着一种奇异的祥和气氛，还有未经过滤的，亲近得伸手就可以触摸到的夜声。真的希望，当第一缕清风悄然而至时，我还能够醒着迎接她的到来。