第5章 我的好妹妹The Im porta n ce of Cons cience

[英]伊莱沙.M.韦伯斯特/Elisha M.Webste r

一个抉择现在正困扰着我。正当我把洗好的衣服分别放进相应的卧室时，我不经意地看到了妹妹的日记本。妹妹今年13岁，她的日记本就像一个现代的潘多拉盒子深深地吸引着我。我该如何是好呢？过去，妹妹一直都是我妒忌的对象。我妒忌她迷人的微笑、可爱的个性，还有她的多才多艺，因为这些都挑战着我作为老大的地位。我私下偷偷地和她较劲，对她才能的憎恨更是与日俱增。我迫不及待地想把她的影子从我的个人成就上抹去。结果，我们平时很少说话。我寻找任何可以批评她的机会，并且急切地想要胜过她。现在，她的日记就在我的脚边，我根本没有考虑打开它的后果。我在意的既不是她的隐私权、我的行为道德，也不是她可能会受到的伤害。我仅仅是想从日记中发现一些罪证，来打破我的竞争者始终优秀的可能性。我把自己的坏念头归咎为姐姐的职责：检查她的言行举止是我的责任。如果尽不到义务，才是我的失误。我犹豫不决地拨弄了几次地板上的日记本，最终还是打开了它。我快速地翻着书页，寻找着我的名字，确信一定能找到相应的证据。可是当我发现自己的名字时，脸一下子涨得通红。远比我想象得糟糕多了。我的脑袋一阵眩晕，瘫坐在了地板上。既没有阴谋也没有诽谤，日记中记录的仅仅是她对自己的简单陈述、她的人生目标和梦想，其中还有一个对她影响深远的人。我哭了起来。

我就是她心目中的英雄。她钦佩我的个性、我的成就，更具讽刺意味的是，还有我的正直。她想把我当成楷模。原来，这些年来她一直默默地观察我的选择和行为。我不再读了，结束了我的“罪行”。我花了太多的精力和她作对，而没有去好好地了解她。这么多年来，我一直浪费时间来憎恨一个有魔力的人——并且现在还辜负了她对我的信任。是我自己失去了这么美好的东西，我下定决心再也不犯这样的错误。看了妹妹日记中诚挚的语言后，裹在我心上的冰已经慢慢融化，我要重新去了解她。最终，我抛弃了那种不信任，正是它造成了我们之间的隔阂。在那个意义深远的下午，我把洗好的衣服放在一边，站起来准备去找她——这一次是去感受而不是责难，去拥抱而不是争执。

无论如何，她是我的妹妹啊。

I was faced with a decision.While delivering laundry into the appropriate bedrooms，I stumbledupon my thirteen-year-old sister’s diary，a modern-day Pandora’s box，suffused with temptation.What was I to do？I had always been jealous of my little sister.Her charming smile，endearing personality and many talents threatened my place as leading lady.I competed with her tacitly and grew to resent her natural abilities.I felt it necessary to shatter her shadow with achievements of my own.As a result，we seldom spoke.I sought opportunities to criticize her and relished surpassing her acevements.

Her diary lay at my feet，and I didn’t think of the result of opening it.I considered not her privacy，the morality of my actions，nor her consequential pain.I merely savored the possibility of digging up enough dirt to soil my competitor’s spotless record.I reasoned my iniquity as sisterly duty.It was my responsibility to keep a check on her activities.It would be wrong of me not to.I tentatively plucked the book from the floor and opened it，fanning through the pages，searching for my name，convinced that I would discover scheming and slander.As I read，the blood ran from my face.It was worse than I suspected.

I felt faint and slouched to the floor.There was neither conspiracy nor defamation.There was a succinct description of herself，her goals and her dreams followed by a short portrayal of the person who has inspired her most.I started to cry.I was her hero.She admired me for my personality，my achievements and ironically，my integrity.She wanted to be like me.She had been watching me for years，quietly marveling over my choices and actions.I ceased reading，struck with the crime I had committed.I had expended so much energy into pushing her away that I had missed out on her.I had wasted years resenting someone capable of magic—and now I had violated her trust.It was I who had lost something beautiful，and it was I who would never allow myself to do such a thing again.Reading the earnest words，my sister had written seemed to melt an icy barrier around my heart，and I longed to know her again.I was finally able to put aside the petty insecurity that kept me from her.On that fateful afternoon，as I put aside the laundry and rose to my feet，I decided to go to her—this time to experience instead of to judge，to embrace instead of to fight.After all，she was my sister.