（英语）那些年的周末时光｜回忆录第八集｜EP. 1833

Cherish the ones you love, for one day they’ll live only in your memories. “珍惜眼前人，因为有一天，他们只会存在于回忆里。” When I was little, my parents and I had a weekend ritual — we would hold hands and walk together to Shang Ji Cheng, a little restaurant that served the most delicious roast chicken in Tucheng, Tapei. 小时候，我们家有个周末仪式——爸爸妈妈会牵着我的手，一起走到在台北土城香鸡城，那里有我最爱的手扒鸡。 Dad on one side, Mom on the other, and me in the middle, swinging their hands like a seesaw, giggling all the way. The moment we stepped inside, that golden, crispy aroma filled the air — to this day, I can still smell it in my memories. 爸爸在一边，妈妈在另一边，我走在中间，一边摇晃着他们的手、一边咯咯笑。那股金黄酥脆的香气直到现在，仍深深烙印在我的记忆里。 They would always leave the chicken leg and wing for me — my favorite parts — and smile as they watched me eat. 爸妈总会把我最爱的鸡腿和鸡翅留给我，看着我吃得津津有味，露出满足的笑容。 After dinner, we would head to the cinema. I remember laughing so hard at Stephen Chow’s movies like Flirting Scholar and Tricky Brains. Dad would say, “My favorite sound in the world is your laughter.” And in those moments, I felt safe. I thought that happiness would last forever. 吃饱后，我们就去电影院。印象最深的是周星驰的《唐伯虎点秋香》和《整人大王》，我笑得又大又开心。爸爸总说：“我最喜欢听妳的笑声。”那时候，我以为幸福会一直这样下去。 But life changed. The laughter faded, replaced by arguments, shouting, and silence. Dad began to hit Mom — and our family dinners became fewer and fewer. Sometimes, Mom still took me to the movies, but Dad was never there anymore. 然而生活变了。笑声被争吵、怒吼和沉默取代。爸爸开始对妈妈动手，我们三个人一起吃饭的画面越来越少。妈妈偶尔还是会带我去看电影，但爸爸已经不再出现。 When I grew older, the roles reversed — I was the one taking Dad to the movies. I still remember watching Con Air together, and later, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, a movie that inspired me to travel to Iceland alone. 长大后，角色互换了——变成我带爸爸去看电影。我还记得我们一起看了《空中监狱》，还有后来那部让我踏上冰岛旅程的《白日梦冒险王》。 But by then, things were different. Mom and I often argued, Dad became quiet and heavy with worries about money. I was the one paying for the tickets — and sometimes, he didn’t even seem to want to be there. 但那时感觉已经不同了。妈妈和我常常争吵，而爸爸变得沉默忧郁，总是叹气说没钱。最后，都是我买电影票，而他只是静静地坐着，好像也不太情愿。 Even when my parents occasionally met again, the air felt heavy — like a storm waiting to break. I had already learned to live with their separation, but deep down, I still missed that simple, joyful little family we once were. 即使爸妈偶尔再见面，空气都变得沉重，像随时会爆发的暴风雨。我早已习惯他们分开的生活，但心底深处，仍然无比怀念那个单纯快乐的三人世界。 Then one day, Mom — who always cared about her health — passed away suddenly. A few years ago, Dad also left during surgery. Losing them both broke me open in ways words can’t describe. 后来，有一天，那个最注重养生的妈妈却突然离世。几年后，爸爸也在手术中离开了。我失去了这世界上最爱我的人，那段时间的痛苦，无法用言语形容。 If I could go back, just once, I’d return to that warm, yellow-lit Shang Ji Cheng. I’d hold their hands and say, “Thank you. I really, really love you.” Not wait until everything became a memory. 如果可以重来一次，我希望能回到那个灯光昏黄的香鸡城，拉着爸妈的手，认真地对他们说：“谢谢你们，我真的很爱你们。”而不是等到一切都变成回忆时，才后悔那些没说出口的话。 Thank you for listening to this story from my heart. Maybe you, too, have moments you wish you could relive — to say the words that were never said. So today, if you still can, call someone you love. Tell them how much they mean to you. 谢谢你听完我的故事。 也许你心中，也有那些想重来一次的时刻。 今天，如果还有机会，请告诉你爱的人：“谢谢你，我真的很爱你。”