她是我惟一想要结婚的人
It was an early night in June with the soft， orange glow of the lights of Pudong coming through the windows， the sound of trucks driving along the highway in the distance， that she looked at me and asked， “Do you think we should get married？”
I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “。 . . I was thinking of asking you that same question.”
In the morning I called my parents in America. They were having dinner， the kind of dinner we used to have together around the big table with the dogs lying quietly in the floor waiting for a bite to eat， the nightly news on the TV， the quiet conversation. My mother answered the phone.
“Mom， I have something to tell you. I‘m engaged.”
The town where I grew up is hidden far away in the hills of southern West Virginia in America. During the night， only the sound of crickets and occasionally an owl can be heard somewhere off in the distance， and during the day， line upon line of gentle mountains can be seen rolling off under the sky.
My college town was not much different from where I grew up. A small town of only a few thousand people quietly living their lives out on the west bank of the Potomac River， not far from Washington D.C.， but far enough so that it seemed a different world from the chaos of the city―the traffic， the crowds， the constant noise.
I spent my childhood and my young adulthood living in the country， accustomed to the quiet， untouched by the bustle and clamor of the metropolis. So when I was twenty-three， I decided to come to Shanghai. It was like bomb had gone off. Everywhere there were people―people upon people―the crowd seemed uncontrollable， suffocating. And so much was new. Not just things like buses and the metro， the taxis choking the streets， the smog and construction and constant racket， but all the faces were new too. First， describe everything you have ever known， everything that feels like home to you， and then try to imagine being plunged into a world that is the complete opposite. There was where I was. I could not have imagined a more alien place than Shanghai.
Even though the initial months of my time in Shanghai were a shock， I began to adjust， to figure out how to get the things I needed， to learn survival Chinese， and to enjoy my year teaching. I never thought， however， that I would stay in Shanghai―until I met her.
I sometimes try to imagine her life， to see her life and myself through her eyes. Wu Jun Yi was born in Shanghai to a Shanghainese family. Her entire life was and is played out under the skyscrapers and the thick crowds in the street. I did not know at the time I first met her in the last weeks of the cold， wet winter last year， that Jun Yi would become the only person I could ever conceive of asking to be my wife.
There she was. Attractive， yes， but there is something else about her. She stands straight， holding herself confidently. She speaks directly， demanding action， demanding attention and respect. She demands， but she is tender， loving， and soft. She is a woman in the fullest sense， but at times just a little girl who is scared and lonely. She has loved， and she has lost. She knows what she wants of life and refuses to sacrifice an inch. There is an air about her， a kind of energy which radiates her self-determination， and you can see it in the way that she holds herself， the way she walks down the street， the way she smiles and speaks.
After living in Shanghai for nearly six months， I had grown accustomed to seeing foreigners with their local Chinese girlfriends， but I had also heard some things about the local girls that had made me cautious of ever becoming emotionally involved with one of them. But more than this， I was certain that if I ever had had a chance to have a relationship， I would never take it because I felt I could never understand the world of Chinese girl. Someone from a culture so different from my own， how could I ever identify with her thoughts？ How could we communicate our deepest feelings？ How could we truly understand one another？ How could our sense of love possibly be the same？ But then another question began coming more and more often into my mind， and it was question which I believed and still believe has no answer： At what moment does a man fall in love？
When do we fall in love？ I turned this over and over again in my mind last spring， but in a place deeper than my mind， a place beyond the intellect， I knew I felt something for her. When we were alone there were times when I found myself absently staring at the way her neck curves， the curious shape of her ears， her slender fingers， her small hands. All to the point where I could no longer deny that I was anything but in love with her. She was the last thought I had at night before I slept； she was my first thought in the morning when I woke.
The day was warm， late April， when all the flowers were still in bloom， and we met beneath a veranda by which ran a slow canal. “There is something that I have been wanting to tell you for a long time，” was how I began.
Last December Jun Yi and her first serious boyfriend broke up. I was raised in conservative cultural surroundings in America though my family is not conservative at all， and I was not surprised when， to her credit， she rejected my advance that day. I think that if she had simply accepted me， then I would have had some doubts about her sincerity. The romantic idea of falling desperately in love with a strange foreigner is a delicious fantasy that perhaps too many people in Shanghai have.
We were friends， becoming the best of friends， and we decided that our friendship should be preserved more than anything else. And perhaps it was out of that feeling， the feeling of being the best of friends， that on an evening in late April I asked her to kiss me， and she did.
Jun Yi was instantly accepted into my family. My family is very liberal， and we hold human equality as a basic standard， so she did not run into any racism or any other difficulty in finding acceptance with them. And amazingly enough， almost as easily as Jun Yi was accepted into my family， I was accepted into hers. Now I consider her father and mother， her aunts and uncles， as my family―people who love me and whom I love. It is amazing that even though we do not speak the same language， we communicate nonetheless， and I learn so much about what it means to be a family by taking part in hers.
In the end， my questions were answered. Yes， two people from completely different cultures can have the same sense of feeling， the same understanding of what it means to love. And that two sets of eyes from two worlds can find happiness and joy together， this gives me so much hope.
今年6月的一个傍晚，当浦东温柔的橙色灯光缓缓照进窗内，窗外公路上汽车飞驰而过的声音已渐渐远去时，她看着我问道：“你认为我们应该结婚吗？”我深深吸了一口气，缓缓地说：“……我也正考虑问你这个问题。”
一个早上，我打电话给了在美国的父母。我可以想得到――他们正在吃晚餐，像以前那样，大家围在大桌子旁，我们的狗安静地趴在地上，等着我们时不时地喂它一口，电视里播着当天的晚间新闻，大家安静地谈论着某些东西。电话是母亲接的。我说：“妈妈，我有话想跟您说，我订婚了。”
我从小生活的那个小镇，隐藏在美国西弗吉尼亚州南部的群山深处。晚上，这里只有蟋蟀的叫声，和偶尔可以听到远处猫头鹰的叫声。白天放眼望去，天空底下尽是绵延的山峰。大学时候，学校所在的那个镇，跟我从小生活的地方没有太大区别。虽然它离华盛顿特区不太远，但这已足以将城市的喧嚣置于世外了。我的童年及青年时期都生活在这样的地方，习惯了安静，好像与大都市的匆忙和喧嚣嘈杂扯不上什么关系。
所以，23岁那年，我决定来上海。这里到处都是人，拥挤得有些失控，并让人窒息，然而这一切是如此新鲜。尽管在上海头几个月的生活对我来说无疑是个不小的震动，然而我已开始学着调整，比如弄明白怎样才能买到我所需的东西，学习简单的生活用语以及享受教学的乐趣。但是，我从没有想过我会留在上海，直到我遇到她。
有时我会试着去想像她的生活，去了解她以及她眼中的我。Maggie是上海人，从小就生活在摩天大楼和人潮中间。去年那个湿冷冬季的最后一周，我第一次遇见她，当时我还不知道她将成为惟一一个我想要结婚的人。
她是一个充满魅力的女孩。是的，她总是站得笔直，充满自信。她很有想法，但有时却是一个有点恐惧和落寞的小女孩。她爱过，也失去过。她知道自己想要什么样的生活，拒绝牺牲其中的任何一点。在她身上有一种气息，一种能量，全身散发着她的独立自主。
在上海生活大概6个月后，我已渐渐习惯了身边的外国人和他们的中国女友们，但我也听说了一些中国女孩的事情，这使我谨慎小心，避免与她们中的某个人纠缠不清。即使我有机会发展这样的关系，我也不会接受，因为我完全不能理解中国女孩的世界。一个文化背景和我截然不同的人，我该如何才能了解她的想法？我们如何能交流深层的感受？我们是否能真正理解对方？我们对爱的体会是否相同
去年春天，我曾无数次地问过自己“我们是什么时候恋爱的？”有好多次我们独处时，我出神地看着她脖子上弯曲的纹路，好奇她耳朵的形状，纤细的手指，还有她的小手。所有这一切让我不再否认我爱上了她。每天睡觉前我想的最后一个人是她，每天醒来我想的第一个人还是她。
4月底的一天，各种花儿争奇斗艳，我们相约在河边的回廊下见面。我的开场白是：“有一件事很久以来我一直想跟你说”。Maggie去年12月和她的第一个男朋友分手。尽管我的父母不是什么保守的人，但我从小生活在一个保守的环境里。所以那天她拒绝我时，我并不感到意外。我想如果她这么轻易就接受我了，那我可能就会怀疑她的真诚了。
开始时我们仅是朋友，接着是最好的朋友，之后我们觉得应该更珍视我们的友谊。或许这可能已超出了朋友的情感，直到4月底的一个晚上，我让她吻我，结果她同意了。
我的家人很快就接受她了。让我惊喜的是，她的家人也很快授受了我。她的父母、叔叔、阿姨像我的家人一样爱着我，当然我也爱他们。令人惊奇的是，尽管我们说着不同的语言，但我们依然能沟通。这让我深刻体会到只有参与其中你才能成为家庭中的一员。
最后，我的问题已有了答案了。是的，两个来自完全不同文化背景的人，是能够体会相同的感受，对爱的意义是可以有相同理解的。此外，两双来自两个世界的眼睛，是能够在一起寻找快乐和幸福的，这让我充满期待。
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