Leaf Burning：那年秋天，他点燃了最后一堆落叶，也点燃了我的泪

My grandfather loved the fall.Every year at the end of October, he would gather all the yard's leaves in neat piles along the curb and begin burning them.All along the avenue, as far as one could see, leaves would be burning.I used to wonder if it were prearranged—this ritual of disposal.I never heard Papa phone anyone and say, “Well, today is the day. I’ll see you at the curb.”No—it just sort of happened.The fires would start in the late afternoon, when the winds were low, and continue into the early hours of dusk.The dying embers barely discernible by the time we children had to go in.

Papa 很爱秋天。每年十月底，他都会把院子里的落叶整整齐齐地扫到路边，然后开始焚烧。那时候整条街上都能看到冒烟的落叶堆。我常常好奇，这种处理方式是不是大家事先约好的仪式，因为我从没听见他打电话通知谁说“今天就是那天，路边见”。但这件事就那样自然而然地发生了。火堆通常在傍晚风小的时候点起，一直烧到黄昏深处。当我们这些孩子要进屋时，火星几乎已经看不清了。

Leaf burning was a family affair—a part of autumn I looked forward to every year.Adults raked all day, trying to keep the laughing children from running and jumping into the leaves before they got to the curb.At an early age, I delighted in the crackling sounds the flames made and learned respect for fire as well.Neighbors talked and caught up with the latest goings-on.The men said things like, “Seems like there are twice as many as last year.”Nana baked pies and invited folks in for food and company.The visitors lingered long after the embers were cold, and spoke of the coming winter.Papa, though, stayed outside, standing guard lest some stubborn leaf try to reignite and escape.

焚烧落叶是一项全家的事情，也是我每年秋天最期待的活动之一。大人们一整天都在耙叶，同时还要防止孩子们在落叶被运到路边前就冲进去打滚。我从很小的时候就喜欢听火焰“噼啪”燃烧的声音，也从中学会了对火的敬畏。邻居们会聚在一起聊天，互相交换近况，男人们感慨“今年的落叶好像比去年多了一倍”。奶奶会烤派，请人们进屋吃东西、叙旧。客人们通常会在火堆熄灭很久之后才离开，聊着即将来临的冬天。而Papa总是在外头坚守，防止哪片顽皮的落叶突然复燃、逃走。

As a child, I never asked Papa why he seemed to love the burning of the leaves.I just assumed that everyone burned leaves in October, and he was doing what was expected of him.As I grew into adolescence, I found myself sitting at the curb talking into the evening with him.And I became aware that it was more than a yearly chore for him.He once shared with me the times his dad had burned leaves on their small plot in the Pennsylvania hills.My great-grandfather was a coal miner and had little time to relax with his family.Papa and his ten brothers and sisters all looked forward to spending precious time with their dad during the burning of the leaves.

小时候，我从没问过Papa为什么那么喜欢烧落叶。我只是理所当然地以为，每个人十月都会这么做，他也只是做他该做的事。等我渐渐长大，青春期时，常常陪他坐在路边，一起聊到天黑。我才开始明白，对他来说，这不仅仅是一项年复一年的家务。他曾告诉我，在宾夕法尼亚的山地上，他的父亲也会在他们家那小块地上烧落叶。我的曾祖父是个煤矿工人，很少有时间能和家人放松相处。而烧落叶的日子，是Papa和他的十个兄弟姐妹能和爸爸一起度过的宝贵时光。

Papa was a quiet man, not given to a lot of talk.After years of working in open steel pits, he was still in great shape—but he moved slowly and always with purpose.He and Nana were the anchors in my formative years—always there, same house, same comfortable routines.My parents and I lived a migratory army life.My grandparents rarely traveled.They were a constant I held even more dear as I grew into adulthood.

Papa 是个沉默寡言的人。虽然在露天钢铁厂干了那么多年，他身体依然很结实，但他的动作总是缓慢而有节奏。他和奶奶是我成长岁月中的定海神针，总是住在那栋房子里，过着一成不变而温暖的生活。而我和父母过的是军人家庭的迁徙生活，不断搬家。而祖父母几乎从不远行，在我逐渐长大成人后，他们成了我生命中最稳定、最宝贵的存在。