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There were little things that showed it. When I was a kid I had a real sweet tooth—we all did. My favorite food was glazed doughnuts and my father knew that. So every few weeks I would come downstairs in the morning and there on the kitchen counter was a bag of glazed doughnuts—no note, no explanation—just the doughnuts. It was like Santa Claus.
这从一些小事就可以看出来，我小时候非常喜欢吃甜食——孩子们都这样。我父亲知道我喜欢吃甜面包圈。于是每隔几个星期，当我早上从楼上下来时，都会在橱柜上发现一袋面包圈——没有字条、没有说明——只有面包圈，就像圣诞老人送来的礼物。
Sometimes I would think about staying up late at night, so I could see him leave them there, but just like with Santa Claus, I didn't want to ruin the magic for fear that he would never do it again. My father had to leave them secretly at night, so as no one might catch him with his guard down. He was scared of human emotion, he didn't understand it or know how to deal with it. But he did know doughnuts.
有时我想待到深夜，希望能看见他把甜面包圈放在那儿。但就像圣诞老人一样，我不想破坏那种奇迹，唯恐他不再那样做。我父亲得在晚上悄悄地把它们留在那里，不想让任何人知道。他害怕提及人类的情感，他不懂也不知道怎么处理感情，但他懂得甜面包圈对我的意义。
And when I allow the floodgates to open up, there are other memories that come rushing back, memories of other tiny gestures, however imperfect, that showed that he did what he could. So tonight, rather than focusing on what my father didn't do, I want to focus on all the things he did do and on his own personal challenges. I want to stop judging him.
当我打开记忆的闸门时，更多的回忆涌现出来，那些关于一些微妙举动的记忆，尽管已经不太清晰，但也足以表明他在尽力而为。所以今晚，我不想专注于我父亲所没有做到的，我想专注于所有他历尽艰难尽力做到的事情。我想停止对他的判断。
