1 In the faint light of the attic, an old man, tall and stooped, bent his great frame and made his way to a stack of boxes that sat near one of the little half-windows. Brushing aside a bit of a spider’s web, he pointed the top box toward the light and began to carefully lift out one old photograph album after another. Eyes once bright but now dim searched longingly for the source that had drawn him here.
1 在阁楼昏暗的灯光下，一位高个子的驼背老人正尽力弓着高大的身躯，缓慢地走向小窗旁边的一摞盒子。拨开少许蜘蛛网，他将最上面的盒子对着亮光，开始小心翼翼地取出一本本旧相册。他那曾经明亮的眼睛现在变得昏暗，他急切地寻找着吸引他来这里的东西。
2 It began with the fond memory of the love of his life, long gone, and somewhere in these albums was a photo of her he hoped to rediscover. Silent as a mouse, he patiently opened the long buried treasures and soon was lost in a sea of memories. Although his world had not stopped spinning when his wife left it, the past was more alive in his heart than his present aloneness.
2 一切开始于他对人生挚爱的美好回忆。她已去世很久了，这些相册中有一张她的照片，他希望能找出来。他安静又耐心地打开这些封存已久的珍贵物件，很快陷入回忆中。尽管妻子离去后他的世界并没有停止转动，但是在他心里，过去的记忆比他现在孤独的生活要生动得多。
3 Setting aside one of the dusty albums, he pulled from the box what appeared to be a journal from his grown son’s childhood. He could not recall ever having seen it before, or that his son had ever kept a journal. Why did Elizabeth always save the children’s old junk? He wondered, shaking his white head.
3 把一本落满灰尘的相册放到一边之后，他从盒子里拿出一本看起来像儿子小时候的日记本，儿子现在已长大成人了。他不记得之前见过这个本子，也不记得儿子写过日记。为什么伊丽莎白总是留着孩子们的废旧杂物呢？他思索着，又摇了摇头，头上白发苍苍。
4 Opening the yellowed pages, he glanced over a short reading, and his lips curved in an unconscious smile. Even his eyes brightened as he read the words that spoke clear and sweet to his soul. It was the voice of the little boy who had grown up far too fast in this very house, and whose voice had grown fainter and fainter over the years. In the utter silence of the attic, the words of an innocent six-year-old worked their magic and carried the old man back to a time almost totally forgotten.
4 打开泛黄的纸页，他快速浏览了一小段，嘴角便不自觉地上扬，他微笑着。读着这些清晰甜蜜而又触动心灵的文字，他的眼睛甚至都明亮了起来。就在这所房子里，那个小男孩转眼就长大了。这些话都是他小时候的心声，而这个声音在过去的这些年里却越来越微弱。在无比寂静的阁楼里，天真无邪的六岁小男孩的文字像施了魔法，将老人带回几乎已被完全忘却的那段时光。
5 Entry after entry stirred an emotional hunger in his heart like the longing a gardener feels in the winter for the fragrance of spring flowers. But it was accompanied by the fact that his son’s simple memories of those days were far different from his own. But how different?
5 一则则记录在他的心里激起了情感上的渴望，就如同冬日里的园丁渴望着春天花朵的芬芳。但是在渴望的同时，他也意识到儿子对那段日子的单纯记忆和他自己的记忆大相径庭。但是区别在哪里呢？
6 Reminded that he had kept a daily journal of his business activities over the years, he closed his sons journal and turned to leave, having forgotten the cherished photo that originally triggered his search. Trying to avoid bumping his head, the old man stepped to the wooden stairs that led to the study.
6 他想起那些年曾经记过商业活动日记。于是他合上儿子的日记，转身离开，早已经忘记最初促使他来这里寻找的那张珍贵照片。老人一边躲避着不磕到头，一边踏上通向书房的木梯。
7 Opening a glass cabi
net door, he reached in and pulled out an old business journal. Turning, he sat down at his desk and placed the two journals beside each other. His was leather-bound with his name printed neatly in gold, while his son’s had not been well kept and the name Jimmy had been nearly erased from its surface. He ran a long skinny finger over the letters, as though he could restore what had been worn away with time and use.
7 他打开一扇玻璃柜门，伸手取出一本旧的商业日记。他转身坐在桌边，把两本日记并排放着。他自己的日记本是皮面的，上面用金字整齐地印着他的名字，而儿子的日记本保存得不是很好，封面上吉米这个名字几乎快被磨掉了。他用瘦长的手指抚摸着这些字，仿佛能够重塑那已经随着时间和使用被消磨的东西。
8 As he opened his journal, the old man’s eyes fell upon a passage that stood out because it was so brief in comparison to other days’. In his own neat handwriting were these words: Wasted the whole day fishing with Jimmy. Didn’t catch a thing.
8 老人打开自己的日记，目光落在一段醒目的文字上，因为和其他日子的日记相比这段文字太简短了。他那整洁的字迹写着：浪费了一整天的时间和吉米钓鱼。什么也没钓到。
9 With a deep sigh and a shaking hand, he took Jimmy’s journal and found the boy’s entry for the same day, June 4. Large letters, pressed deeply into the paper, read: Went fishing with my dad. Best day of my life.
9 他深深叹了口气，摇了摇头，接着打开了吉米的日记，找到小男孩在同一天——六月四号——的记录。大大的字被用力地写在纸上：今天和爸爸一起钓鱼。人生中最棒的一天。
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