英語作文《Waiting for the Breeze》

Waiting for the Breeze/祈盼清風

“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 to save money.

“Nobody opens a window, day or night,” warns another friend, whose windows have been painted shut for a decade. “It's just not safe.”

On this first night of our cost-cutting adventure, it's only 30 degrees. We're not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble1 anyway. They've grown up in 22-degree comfort, protected from the heat outside.

“How do you open these windows?” my husband asks. Shaking the window handle, he finally releases2 one. Lots of dead insects3 lie on the windowsill4. As we spring5 the windows one by one, the night noises howl6 outside—and in.

“It's too hot to sleep,” my 13-year-old daughter moans7. “I'm about to die from this heat,” her brother yells down the corridor8. “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 choirs9 outside that remind me of childhood. The neighbor's dog howls. No doubt a 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 managed the upkeep10 of my Mom's garden 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 angle11 my face toward the open window. I flip12 the pillow, hunting for the cooler side.

Grandma sees me tossing13 and turning. “If you'll just watch for the breeze,” she says, “you'll cool off and fall asleep.” She raises the Venetian blinds14. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter15.

Lying still, waiting, I suddenly notice the life outside the window. The bug chorus16 shouts. Neighbors, sitting on their verandas17 until late, speak in flowing drawl18 that soothes19 me.

“Keep watching for the breeze,” Grandma says softly, and I “uh-huh” in reply. Bugs ping20 the screen. Three blocks away a train rumbles21 by.

I catch the scent22 of fresh grass clippings23. Then I hear something I can't decode24 — perhaps a tree branch scratching the shop roof next door.

Sleepy-eyed now, I look at the curtain. It moves...

“Mom, did you hear that?” my seven-year-old blurts25, tearing me from memories of old. “I think it was an owl26 family.”

“Probably,” I tell him. “Just keep listening... ”

Without the droning27 air conditioner, the house sounds are different, more peaceful, and with the windows open outside noises seem close enough to touch. I hope I'm awake tonight when the first breeze sneaks in28.

“不開空調？你睡得着嗎？”聽説我家為了省電要把家裏的空調關掉時，我的朋友一臉驚愕。

“現在誰敢開窗？”另一個朋友警告説，“不管是白天還是晚上都不安全！”她家的窗户刷過漆後，已經塵封了十年。

在開始省電的第一天晚上，氣温不過30度。我們不覺得難受，3個孩子卻抱怨連天。他們是在22度的温室裏被呵護長大的.，與外界隔絕。

“這些窗户該怎麼開呀？”丈夫搖晃着金屬插銷，終於打開了一扇。各種各樣的昆蟲屍體裝點着窗台。隨着窗户被一扇一扇地打開，縈繞在外的夜聲——湧了進來。

13歲的女兒不停地嘀咕：“太熱了！怎麼睡啊！”