我在俄亥俄州读八年级时，班上有一个女孩名叫海伦，她遭遇了一场严重的车祸。她怕错过公交车，急匆匆地跑过去时，不慎踩到冰块，滑倒在后车轮下。她幸免于难，但腰部以下瘫痪了。去探望她时，13岁的我想，从此以后，她再也不能正常地生活了。
数年后，我搬了家，也没有再想过海伦。三年前，在佛罗里达州，我的大儿子骑车时被汽车撞倒，脑部受到严重创伤。在我照顾儿子期间，有一位女士打来电话，自称是医院义工。那是最难熬的日子，我毫无来由地失声痛哭，然后挂了电话。
不久，一位坐着轮椅的漂亮女士出现在儿子的病房，她手里拿着纸巾。16年以后，我仍然认出，是海伦。她微笑着，递纸巾给我，拥抱我。我告诉她自己是谁后，我们为此都非常震惊。她开始告诉我，我们分别后她的生活经历。她结婚生子，并获得了学位。这样，她能为那些比自己更不幸的人点燃前进的希望。她告诉我，现在倘若她有什么可以给我的，那就是“希望”。
看着这位了不起的又乐于奉献的女士，我深感渺小。但是，自从儿子受伤后，我也感受到了第一份希望。这位我曾以为没有生活质量的人让我明白：只要有生命，就有希望。儿子奇迹般地康复了，我们又搬回了北方。但是，我欠海伦的情谊将永远无法偿还。
希望并不是一件奢侈的东西，它不是仅存在顺境中的装饰，而是伴随着我们的生命，从不曾离开。在逆境中，我们常常以为希望离我们而去了，觉得我们陷入了绝望的深渊，却不知希望就像太阳一样，即便我们在阴影下，也不能否认它的存在，只要抬起头，总是能看到阳光。
survive [s'vaiv] v. 幸存；幸免于难；挺过；艰难度过
Did anyone survive the explosion?
那次爆炸事故中有人幸免吗？
paralyzed ['p鎟laizd] adj. 瘫痪的；麻痹的
His left leg was paralyzed.
他左腿瘫痪了。
particularly [p'tikjulli] adv. 特别；尤其
Iron is particularly important.
食物中的铁质尤为重要。
miraculously [mi'r鎘jlsli] adv. 神奇地；非凡地；出乎意料地
Miraculously he just walked away from the traffic accident.
车祸中，他竟奇迹般地一点儿事也没有。
她幸免于难，但腰部以下瘫痪了。
她告诉我，现在倘若她有什么可以给我的，那就是“希望”。
只要有生命，就有希望。
It was a particularly trying day. I burst into tears for no reason and hung up.
burst into tears：突然大哭起来
I owe Helen a debt that I can never repay.
owe a debt：欠债
假如给我三天光明
Three Days to See
海伦·凯勒 / Helen Keller
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours. But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the Epicurean motto of "Eat, drink, and be merry, " but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life.
Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound.
Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see.
Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed..."Nothing in particular" she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In the spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud the first sign of awakening nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush thought my open finger. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the page ant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips.