There’s a black-and-white snapshot in a family album.

Me, 1)squinting in the sun, 3-inch blonde pigtails sticking out, fresh-picked 2)daisies in my hand.

And, on the other side of the camera, unseen in the photo, my father.

I was five. He was thirty-three.

I remember that moment—probably because of the photograph—so I will say that maybe that is how it started.

New to town, we were exploring our neighborhood on foot. I’d walked beside him down the sidewalk a couple of blocks from our Caroline Street home, 3)skidded down a steep dirt path, 4)traversed a field, 5)poked through thick underbrush, and emerged at the river’s edge where water for the power plant pounded into the current.

It was just the right-sized adventure for the tiny girl I was.

It must have meant something to my father, too, because he thought to snap the picture.

From then on, we were walking 6)buddies.

I can’t count the number of times people have said, “I saw you and your dad walking down,” —we’ve walked every street, path and alley in town. We’ve put in plenty of miles on country roads and mountain trails. We’ve 7)blazed a few of our own.

My father, Curt Miller, was a busy, pipe-smoking newspaperman.

He got up before dawn, spent the day rushing to meet deadlines, and by the time he got home, probably had good reason to tell his children to 8)buzz off.

But that wasn’t him.

As far as I know, he never read a child-care book. (1) He never 9)fretted over quality time versus quantity time. I doubt he ever paid much attention to the psychological research about the importance of a father in a girl’s life.

I’d like to think he took me walking for the same reason I went walking with him—for fun.

It wasn’t something he did for me. It was something he did with me. Side- by-side. Step by step. Sometimes we had a mission, an errand, a destination. More often, we didn’t.

As he’d say, we’d just “go where our legs take us.”

We had our private language. “Onward, McDuff!” he would order, as we rounded a bend in the woods or started up a steep hill.

Without him, I could easily have turned into a 10)sissy girl, prone as I was to rather 11)prim inclinations. He saved me from that fate—insisting we take the path less traveled—one that looked dangerously full of 12)copperheads to me.

I never voiced my fears, I always let him go first, and we survived.

We talked about everything and nothing.

Maybe about the neighbor’s political poster. Or his days in the 13)Boy Scouts. Or why I eventually wanted to have children.

We soaked up every gift that nature had to offer in our corner of the world—those steamy summer nights when the heat of the day breaks into a soft 14)haze, those ice-crunchy winter days.

I went from that pig-tailed 15)tyke to a leggy middle school student with pointy glasses and a 16)zit or two. He went from the trim athlete who jogged to work, to a middle-aged man bent on lowering his triglyceride level.

Every once in a while, I would wonder when I would become too grown-up to walk with my dad.

I grew that hair to my waist, hippy-style. His turned white.

Still, we walked.

We walked together, and walking was such a part of our lives that the treasure extended to others.

Years later, my best friend, Polly, spoke of how her walks with my father and me had opened her eyes to an appreciation of the natural world.

My dates followed my footsteps all around, too—I’m afraid I gave them little choice. Mr. Right was good about it. Brian and I started dating in January 1979, and now share cherished memories of those first days together, getting to know one another as we walked 17)briskly in the 15-degree nights under the winter stars.

Our son Nathan came along on a summer day in 1986.

I covered miles—on foot, of course—around our neighborhood, as he snoozed in his 18)snugli.

Then he got his walking legs.

One evening, when he was almost two, we took the video camera along for one of our family outings. The movie shows grandpa, Brian, Nathan, me and Atlee, the bulldog, meandering around the Mary Washington College campus.

An average day, an average walk, a cherished time.

As Nathan grew, he and his grandpa often walked to their “special place,” a wooded 19)retreat not far from the highway.

We’re all still walking, in various 20)configurations. Nathan will turn 16 this summer. I’m wondering when he’ll think he’s too mature to join his mom for a walk.

I’ve never outgrown my walks with my dad.

If I were asked what I’ve learned in all these years and miles, I might say I’ve come to know my father as a person, not a 21)saint, not a 22)villain.

I’ve learned something of the joy and pain, the fire and love that make up one human being—and by extension, all human beings.

I’ve learned to notice the little things: the 23)mockingbird that 24)swoops out of its tree at sunset, the 25)tadpoles that 26)dart around the mud hole, the turtle sunning on the log.

I’ve learned that someone cares, and I’ve learned the importance of family. I’m doing what I can to pass this on to my children.

I might say these things if someone asked, but I think I’d probably turn the question around: “What have you learned from breathing? Because that’s what walking with my dad has been to me—as natural and as much a part of my life as breathing.”

I’m 47. My dad is 75.

We’re taking a walk together today.

1)    squint [skwint] v. 斜视

2)    daisy [5deizi] n. 雏菊

3)    skid [skid] v. 溜滑

4)    traverse [5trAvEs] v. 横过，穿过，经过，在…来回移动

5)    poke [pEuk] v. 戳，拨开

6)    buddy [5bQdi] n. <美口>密友，伙伴

7)    blaze [bleiz] v. 燃烧，照耀，激发

8)    buzz off 匆忙离去

9)    fret [fret] v. (使)烦恼，(使)焦急，(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损

10)  sissy [5sisi] adj. 女人气的，柔弱的

11)   prim [prim] adj. 整洁的

12)  copperhead [5kRpEhed] n. 铜斑蛇，南北战争时同情南方的北方人

13)  Boy Scouts 童子军

14)  haze [heiz] n. 薄雾，疑惑，阴霾

15)  tyke [taik] n. <口>小孩子，小淘气

16)  zit [zit] n. 丘疹

17)  briskly [briskli] adv. 活泼地，精神勃勃地

18)  snugli :为方便父母行动可以将婴儿固定在胸前的背带，而中国父母通常用背带将婴儿背在身后

19)  retreat [ri5tri:t] n. 撤退，退却

20)  configuration [kEn7fi^ju5reiFEn] n. 构造，结构，配置，外形

21)  saint [seint, sEnt] n. 圣人，道德崇高的人，圣徒

22)  villain [5vilEn] n. 坏人，恶根

23)  mockingbird [5mRkINb\:d] n. [鸟]嘲鸟(善鸣叫，并能模仿别种鸟的叫声，故名)

24)  swoop [swu:p] v. 飞扑，突然袭击

25)  tadpole [5tAdpEul] n. [动]蝌蚪

26)  dart [dB:t] v. 飞奔，投掷

在我的家庭相册里，有一张黑白快照。

相片中的我，在阳光下眯着眼睛，金色头发扎成3英寸长的马尾，手捧一束刚摘下来的小雏菊。

相机的另一端，是我的父亲，他为我拍下了这张照片。

那年我5岁，父亲33岁。

也许是因为这张照片，使我想起了那一刻，也许事情就是从那时开始的。

初到镇上时，我们会步行到附近的地方去熟悉环境，我跟在父亲身边，从住在凯罗林街的家出发，沿着人行道逛到几条街外，越过一条陡峭肮脏的小路，穿越一片田野，钻过茂密的丛林，最后来到一条建有发电站的河边，河中的水是用来发电的。

这种探险对于我那个年龄的小女孩来说是再适合不过了。

或许对父亲也具有某种意义，他想去拍照。

从那时起我们便成了散步的伙伴。

记不清有多少次人们说：“瞧见你和你爸爸一起散步了”。我们走遍了镇上每一条大街小巷、郊外公路以及山间小径，我们还自己走出了几条小路。

我的父亲，柯特·米勒，是一名忙碌的新闻工作者，他很爱抽烟斗。

天没亮他就起床，接着一整天都忙着赶稿子，晚上回到家，有时会找个好借口撵散总是围着他转的孩子们。

但那不是真正的他。

就我所知，他从来就没有读过照顾小孩方面的书籍。他从不费心思考和孩子在一起的质量时间和数量时间之间的差别，我怀疑他从未留心过有关父亲在女儿生活中产生重要影响的心理研究。

我倒觉得他带我出去散步的原因正如我想和他去的一样——为了乐趣。

这不是他为我做的事情，这是他和我一起做的事情。我们并排走着，一步一步。有时我们会有某个特定的任务或目的地，但大多数时候都没有。

正如他所说，我们只是“跟随着我们的脚”罢了。

我们之间有一些暗号，“前进，麦克达夫！”当我们穿梭在丛林或开始向一座陡峭的山丘进发时，他会向我施令。

如果不是父亲，我肯定会很容易变成那种胆小、有洁癖的女孩。他将我从这种命运中挽救了出来——他坚持带我走人迹罕至的路，那儿在我看来充满危险，到处是毒蛇。

我从来没有将恐惧挂在嘴边，总是让他走在前头，我们就这样一直走了过来。

一路上我们无所不谈。

我们可能聊邻居的政治海报，谈论他在童子军营的日子，甚至关于为什么我想要有孩子。

我们在世界的一角里尽情吸收着大自然赋予的每一份礼物——多雾的夏夜，白天的暑气化作消散的轻烟；寒冷冬日，冰块踩上去会嘎吱作响。

我从那个扎着小辫的小女孩长成了身材高挑的中学生，带着厚厚的镜片，脸上冒出一两颗青春痘。而父亲则由一个每天远足上班的健硕的运动员，变成了个一心想着如何降低体内血脂的中年人。

时不时地，我会好奇地想，自己长到什么时候才会不再和父亲一起散步。

我将头发留长至腰际，弄成嬉皮士风格，父亲的黑发却渐渐变白。

依旧，我们会去散步。

我们的散步成了生活中的一部分，并且逐渐影响了其他人。数年后，我的好友波莉说，她与我和父亲的散步让她学会了欣赏及感恩大自然。

我的约会对象们也不得不跟着我四处溜达——我想我没给他们太多选择，而我的真命天子却十分接受这一点。1979年的一月起，我和布莱恩开始约会，直到现在我们都珍藏着那些最初日子的回忆——两个人在15度的冬夜里精神抖擞地散步，并逐渐了解了对方。

1986年的夏天，我们的儿子内森出世了。

当他还在婴儿背带里打盹时，我便背着他在我们的社区走上数英里了。

后来他便开始用自己的双腿行走。

在他将近两岁时的一个晚上，我们带着摄像机来了次家庭出游。影像中，父亲、布赖恩、内森、我和阿特利——一只法国叭啦狗，一起在玛丽华盛顿大学的校园里漫步。

每一天，每一次散步，都弥足珍贵。

内森渐渐长大了，他和祖父经常步行去他俩的“特别地方”，高速公路边一个树木繁茂的安静处。

我们仍然以各种方式散步。内森今年夏天就要满16岁了，不知道他是否会觉得自己已经长大而不愿和母亲一起散步了。

我却从来没有因为长大而不愿和父亲散步。

如果有人问，走了这么多年，走过了这么长的路，得到些什么收获呢，我会说，这让我逐渐了解了我的父亲，他不是什么圣人，也不是泛泛之辈。

我领悟了欢乐和痛苦、爱与恨，是它们塑造了一个完整的人——从而造就了所有人。

我学会了观察微小的事物：嘲鸟在夕阳中从树上俯冲下来，蝌蚪在泥洞里钻来钻去，还有海龟在原木上晒太阳。

我学会了每个人都关注的东西，认识到家庭的重要性。现在我在尽我所能地将这些传授给我的孩子们。

如果有人问起，我也许会做以上回答，但也许我会反问：“你又从呼吸中学到了什么呢？因为对于我来说，和父亲一起散步就像呼吸一样，已成为生命的一部分，那么自然，不可或缺。”

这一年，我47岁，父亲75岁。

今天，我们仍会一起散步。

温馨提示

(1) He never fretted over quality time versus quantity time,

此句原译者提供了两种译法，另一种为：他从来都没有意识到，花很多时间陪我和我需要他陪的时间的差别。编者认为此为隐含意义，但为了忠实原文，直译能让读者更好地领会其中含义。