Speaking?

The photograph was in my mother’s bedroom. It showed a soldier with a gun. Below the photo there was the word “Speaking?”

“Who’s that soldier called ‘Speaking’?” I asked one day.

My mother laughed. “It wasn’t his name,” she said. “His name was Harold. He was my brother, my only brother. Harold was eighteen when the war began. I was twelve then, and my sisters were ten and nine. Harold liked to play with us --”

“Did you quarrel sometimes?” I asked.

“We often quarreled. That’s where the word ‘Speaking’ come from. When we quarreled, we said: ‘I’m not speaking to you.’ But after the quarrel we were all happy again; and then we said: ‘I’m speaking now. Are you speaking to me?’”

“When the war began, Harold became a soldier. A month later he came to see us. He brought that gun to show us. Then he went miles away to the war. We didn’t see him for three years – three long, empty years.” He didn’t often write letters. But one day in May there was a loud bang on the front door…

“I ran to open it. It was Harold! He was an older Harold; a thinner Harold too. He was a man. He looked at me with his two green eyes, and he smiled. That smile was just the same as before. Then he said one word: Speaking?’”

“I didn’t – I couldn’t -- answer”. I just fell into his arms, and he dropped his gun. He stayed with us for a month. We played all our old games again. Then he went back to the war.

“We never saw him again. A letter came. Harold was dead. I wrote the word on the photograph.”

Vocabulary:

l   quarrel[thrOqQp][quarreled,quarrelled-quarreled,quarrelled-quarreling,quarrelling](vi.)爭吵,不和

l   loud[pANg](ad.) 大聲地,響亮地(a.)大聲的,響亮的

l   bang[e@V](v.)砰地敲;砰砰作響