感动人心的故事之《the burning of the leaves》（下）

Then, early one summer, Nana died. That fall, Papa moved in with my parents. With his flowers, his hobbies and his family, he seemed content. But then one weekend when I was home from college, I noticed that Papa was raking the leaves out to the curb. Mom hadn’t told him. I realized that I was going to have to be the one to break the news. I went out and explained that here, in this new town, there was an ordinance against burning leaves. All that smoke wasn’t considered environmentally sound, and the authorities were worried about spreading fires.Papa never said a word. He walked away, shoulders as low as they had been at Nan&s funeral. He put the rake against the house and went inside. The leaves remained at the curb until late fall winds scattered them back into the yard. A feeling of sadness stirred within me that autumn; I, too, had lost something that could not be replaced. For many autumns after that, Papa pruned, repotted and did other garden chores, but he never again raked leaves.The year I got pregnant with my second son was also the year we learned Papa had cancer. The doctors didn’t think he would make it to Thanksgiving. Papa was thinner and moved slower than ever, but we all lied to him and to ourselves, saying how good he looked and making plans for joyful, not empty, holidays.In the middle of October, I took Papa out to the farm my husband and I had just bought. The air was crisp, and Indian summer was at its peak. Papa walked the few acres with Adam, his great-grandson, as if he were patrolling an estate, with a measured step and head held high. I watched from the yard as he delighted in my four-year-old’s exuberance.When they returned, I told Papa that out here in the country, we wouldn’t get fined for burning leaves. Could he please give me a hand with the task? He smiled widely for the first time in a long time, hugged me and said, “Thank you, I’d be glad to help.” Tears began to fill my eyes, and the closeness between us was cemented for all time to come.I raked, Adam ran through the leaves and Papa supervised the careful placement of the leaves along the gravel drive. He instructed Adam on the hazards of fire. The lesson was like a favorite bedtime story heard and loved so many times before.Then Papa lit the match and the first pile began to burn. The colors moved quickly together, swirling around. Leaves tried to escape, only to be brought back in by Papa’s deft control of the iron rake. The pile burned into the early hours of the evening.The pie and coffee Papa had that night before retiring were, he said, the perfect end to one of the best days he had had in a long time.He died one week later in his sleep.A few days afterward, I received a letter from the Department of Sanitation. It had a warning and a copy of the local ordinance against leaf burning. But I hadn’t really lied to Papa; there was no fine.I shall miss my grandfather always...... and the burning of the leaves.