女儿的午餐袋.docVIP

女儿的午餐袋 　　O ne morning， Molly handed me two bags. One regular lunch sack， and the one with the duct rape and staples and paperclips. 　　“Why two bags？”“The other one is something else.”“What’sin it？”“Justsomestuff. Takeitwith you.”I stuffed both sacks into my briefcase， kissed the child， and rushed off. 　　At midday， while hurriedly scarfing down my real lunch， I tore open Molly’s bag and shook out the contents. Two hair ribbons， three small stones， a plastic dinosaur， a pencil stub， a tiny seashell， two animal crackers， a marble， a used lipstick， a small doll， two chocolate kisses and 13 pennies. 　　Ismiled. How charming. Risingtohustleoff， I sweptthe desk clean into the wastebasket―leftover lunch， Molly’s junkandall.Therewasn’tanythinginthereIneeded. 　　ThateveningMollycametostandbesidemewhileI was readingthepaper.“Where’s my bag？”“What bag？”“You know，theoneIgaveyouthismorning.”“Ileftitattheoffice， why？”“I forgot to put this note in it.”She handed over the note.“Besides，Iwantitback.”“Why？”“Thosearemythings in the sack， Daddy， the ones I really like. I thought you might like to play with them， but now I want them back. You didn’t losethebag，didyou，Daddy？”Tearspuddledinhereyes. 　　“Oh， no， I just forgot to bring it home，”I lied.“Bring it tomorrow， okay？”As she hugged my neck with relief， I unfolded the note that had not gotten into the sack：“I love you，Daddy.” 　　Oh. And uh-oh. I looked long at the face of my child. She had given me her treasures―all that a 7-year-old held dear. Love in a paper sack， and I had missed it―not only missed it， but had thrown it away because“there wasn’t anythingin thereI needed.”Itwasn’tthefirstor the last time IfeltmyDaddypermitwasabouttorunout. 　　It was a long trip back to the office， the pilgrimage of a penitent. I picked up the wastebasket and poured the contents on my desk. I was sorting it all out when the janitor cameintodohischores. 　　“Lose something？”“Yes， my mind.”“It’s probably in there， all right. What does it look lik