最珍贵的时光.docVIP

最珍贵的时光 　　Steve, what am I going to do?” Mike 　　1)bemoaned. 　　Our friend, Mike, was going to finally see his boys. Separated from his wife, who lived on an entirely different continent, it had been over a year since he’d seen his boys. They were flying in to spend one week with him. 　　The fear on his face was real. He was apparently not used to having them to himself; especially for one whole week. 　　“I don’t have the money to take them anywhere,” he said. “I was hoping to go on down to that water park in 2)New Braunfels.” 　　“That place is expensive, Mike!” Steve retorted. “You don’t need to spend a lot of money to have fun! Take them to the springs. Fill up your gas tank and go find some historic sites. You can borrow my tent and go camping.” 　　Judging from the distaste on our friend’s face, none of those suggestions were worthy of conside-ration. Stubbornly 3)ingrained in him was the idea that the amount of money 4)splurged on his children equaled the amount of love he’d get in return. 　　“What do your boys like to do?” I ventured. 　　He shrugged, “I don’t know.” 　　“No, I mean, what are their hobbies?” 　　“I’m not sure.” 　　My heart filled with compassion for his boys―and for their clueless father. They connected 　　mainly through 5)sporadic, expensive phone calls and through infrequent exchanges of 6)snail mail. Mike wanted to make an impression on his boys: he was successful here in the United States and could afford to take them anywhere they wanted. 　　He just didn’t get it. 　　I remember as a child the things my family did that cost practically nothing at all. A spontaneous picnic under a generous oak, pulling 7)off the beaten path to pursue a trail of signs that led us to a barn filled with dusty treasures. Taking walks around the block with my parents after dinner. One Christmas stood out when, at a loss as to what to give his girls, my dad presented each of us with a wrapped shoebox inside of which was a slip of paper that simply said, “I love you.