当前位置:YOKA社区 > 论坛 > 球类 > 2017年管家婆全年彩图


339136 105223
阅读 回复



关注:2017年管家婆全年彩图 粉丝:
帖子:3135 精华:53


  There’s a black-and-white photograph hanging in our living room of my husband, me and my older son. My husband holds our laughing, wiggling son — he’s 2 in the photo — on his lap.

  When I look at it I always have a split second of panic — where is our younger son? Where is his little face, his wild curls? Then I remember, and laugh at myself. He didn’t exist yet.

  I’m almost to the age where I won’t get asked if I’m going to have more kids. I’m at a hinge point in time — like the moment captured in our family-of-three photograph — when life could be one thing, or another.

  We all have hinge points in our lives, jobs taken or not taken, relationships ended or begun. We’re all living our regular lives, where our choices and actions have real consequences. But sometimes we carry in our minds the ghosts of other lives we might have had.

  Sometimes I look at my children and know these two human beings wouldn’t exist if not for a chance event more than 10 years before they were born.

  When I was 22 I backpacked around Italy the summer I graduated from college. One hot morning I set out from my room in a youth hostel in Rome to see the Pantheon. The sun was strong and I had a headache, a hot pinpoint of pain behind my left eye. I soon turned around and went back to my dormitory-style room, walking slowly over the cobblestone streets because of the black spots that hovered in my peripheral vision. I took three Excedrin, curled up in my rumpled sheets, and pressed my hot face to my cool pillow.

  I slept deeply, waking only when the light had turned golden in the window. There were voices, two guys arguing over which bed to take. I blinked. My headache was gone.

  The two men were both tall and dusty, and carrying massive backpacks covered in patches; one of them was spectacularly sunburned. He turned to me and said hello.

  The day I met my husband we climbed the steep stairs to our hostel’s roof terrace together, sat under an umbrella, and drank German beers.

  We told each other about our families. I identify as a first child. But I’m actually the second of three kids, because my parents had a child who died of cancer before I was born. When I was growing up there were few pictures of him. But whenever I glanced at a family photo — of me and my younger brother and my mom and dad, I looked for the blank space where he would have been. I didn’t feel sad when I did this, not exactly. But I did feel a sense of longing at missing out on something that was supposed to be mine and, by a cruel twist of fate, wasn’t.

  If my younger brother was being annoying, I would imagine my older brother as the opposite. He was fun, and more grown up. He had good ideas for pretend games involving bows and arrows. He was someone who would do everything first — swim in the neighbor’s freezing pool, go to overnight camp and sleep in a bunk with spiders — and tell me about it afterward.

  In my imagination he was always older than me, even though once I was past the age of 4, I was older than he would ever be. A lot of who I am was predicated on the fact that he was gone. The joy my parents had in all my little accomplishments, and also the ever-present — but never discussed — vein of sadness that ran through everything we did as a family.

  I should have had two siblings. Maybe my two boys should too? I imagine the amplification of my already full life. I think of the sweet weight of a baby in my arms, the soft pad of a toddler’s footsteps in the hall, reading our worn Maisy board books one more time.

  Because this third child is hypothetical, she or he can be anything I imagine. My two kids are so different, so distinct in their appearance and personalities. My oldest is full of ideas and interest in the world; he’s mechanical and distractible. Every day he says things that strike me with their insight and creativity, but he also would walk out the door with no pants on if we let him. My youngest has big feelings and big opinions — especially about colors and clothes and food. He’s as spirited as his wild curls. It’s amazing to think they are who they are because they were conceived on a certain day, at a certain time. That sperm, that egg.

  I always joke that there are two ways to tell the story of how I met my husband. He tells the romantic comedy version: How we sat together on some warm stone steps in the Roman Forum and traded iPods. Ate green grapes out of a bowl full of ice at an outdoor cafe, and stood hand in hand under the deep and geometric dome of the Pantheon. Said reluctant goodbyes at the Termini on a gray morning, the whistle of trains in the background.

  I’m always a little embarrassed by this version. When he’s done telling it, I laugh and say something like: The short version is I married my vacation hookup.

  But there’s another way of telling the story, one I try not to think about. That’s the version where I don’t have a headache. Where I go to the Pantheon by myself, walk around the city all day, eat gelato for dinner, and go to an American movie with Italian subtitles. Where I go back to the hostel close to midnight, and the dormitory room is dark. Everyone is asleep.

  I wake up late the next day, and the sunburned man is already gone.

  That version of the story — that version of my life without my husband in it — is a ghost I carry around with me. It’s always there, below the surface of my real life.

  If I hadn’t had a headache it would be our family of four that were the ghosts. The weight of my husband’s hand on my hip in the night. My kids dancing in the hallway to my husband’s guitar. Me reading books about Mars to my kids in the dim light of a blanket fort.

  When I think of this, the memory of that hot, bright day in Rome goes cold. I shiver a little. The idea of a third child fades in my mind, and I feel grateful for what I already have. So grateful that this big, messy, joyous life isn’t a ghost life but mine.

  Kate Hope Day is the author of the coming novel “If, Then.”



  2017年管家婆全年彩图【这】【是】【接】【下】【来】【的】【大】【纲】【剧】【情】,【实】【在】【是】【写】【不】【动】【了】,【双】【开】【太】【累】【了】 【巨】【金】【怪】【使】【用】【了】【岩】【崩】【之】【后】,【林】【行】【使】【用】【了】【羽】【栖】,【然】【后】【承】【受】【了】【巨】【金】【怪】【的】【岩】【崩】【技】【能】,【之】【后】【巨】【金】【怪】【继】【续】【使】【用】【了】【岩】【崩】,【林】【行】【凭】【借】【着】【地】【面】【系】【的】【地】【震】【让】【巨】【金】【怪】【遭】【到】【了】【重】【创】,【并】【且】【躲】【开】【了】【岩】【崩】【技】【能】。 【接】【下】【来】【林】【行】【接】【连】【躲】【开】【巨】【金】【怪】【的】【岩】【崩】【技】【能】,【直】【接】【击】【败】【了】【巨】【金】【怪】,【托】【特】【只】【能】【派】

【一】【帮】【体】【力】【过】【盛】,【人】【高】【马】【大】【的】【狼】【人】【打】【猎】【回】【来】,【在】【虫】【族】【入】【侵】【的】【大】【环】【境】【下】,【地】【球】【上】【的】【生】【灵】【都】【摒】【弃】【一】【切】【仇】【恨】,【共】【同】【对】【抗】【虫】【族】,【狼】【人】【和】【吸】【血】【鬼】【这】【种】【暗】【生】【物】,【也】【不】【再】【怕】【被】【发】【现】,【因】【此】,【这】【帮】【打】【猎】【回】【来】【的】【狼】【人】【并】【没】【有】【变】【回】【人】【类】【形】【态】,【而】【是】【满】【身】【黑】【毛】【的】【狼】【人】【样】【子】。 “【咦】~” 【星】【星】【看】【到】【这】【些】【狼】【人】【顿】【感】【亲】【切】【起】【来】,【忍】【不】【住】【轻】【咦】【了】【一】【声】,

【张】【涛】【怀】【疑】【这】【只】【是】【一】【场】【幻】【象】…【或】【者】【这】【是】【梦】【境】。 【但】【是】…【该】【怎】【么】【醒】【过】【来】? 【或】【者】【这】【不】【是】【幻】【象】? 【自】【己】【身】【上】【的】【血】【什】【么】【的】,【还】【有】【闪】【现】【也】【没】【法】【用】。 【这】【么】【多】【的】【异】【常】【情】【况】,【如】【果】【这】【是】【一】【个】【幻】【象】,【那】【也】【太】【假】【了】。 【这】【么】【多】【不】【合】【理】【的】【地】【方】,【大】【多】【数】【人】【都】【会】【发】【现】。 ……【张】【涛】【走】【到】【众】【英】【雄】【面】【前】…… 【一】【堆】【马】【赛】【克】…… 【这】【么】

  【本】【书】【写】【完】【了】,【心】【情】【很】【简】【单】,【就】【是】【写】【完】【了】。 【先】【前】【说】【过】,【格】【局】【就】【是】【两】【万】【年】【前】【后】【两】【万】【年】【后】【关】【于】【主】【角】【的】【事】【情】,【所】【以】【不】【存】【在】【什】【么】【再】【度】【飞】【升】【之】【类】【的】【话】【题】【内】【容】,【那】【样】【扯】【下】【去】【也】【没】【意】【思】。 【唯】【一】【有】【点】【遗】【憾】【的】【是】,【关】【于】【两】【万】【年】【前】【的】【事】【情】【被】【我】【简】【化】【了】。【原】【本】【是】【打】【算】【当】【做】【一】【个】【长】【卷】【来】【写】【得】,【后】【来】【一】【想】【算】【了】【吧】,【好】【像】【没】【啥】【必】【要】,【所】【以】【就】【用】【简】【述】2017年管家婆全年彩图“【说】【人】【话】!” “【萧】【总】,【是】【我】,【我】【是】” 【萧】【焕】【听】【出】【是】【谁】,【直】【接】【将】【电】【话】【给】【挂】【断】【了】。 【别】【苑】【里】,【林】【素】【捏】【住】【手】【机】【的】【手】【指】【指】【节】【已】【经】【泛】【了】【白】【色】。 “【叮】【铃】~~” 【林】【素】【再】【一】【次】【拨】【通】【了】【电】【话】。 【萧】【焕】【被】【林】【素】【连】【续】【催】【促】【的】【电】【话】【打】【扰】,【已】【然】【没】【有】【继】【续】【睡】【觉】【的】【意】【思】,【穿】【好】【衣】【服】【直】【接】【下】【了】【楼】。 【厨】【房】【里】,【景】【染】【正】【在】

  “【水】【月】,【我】【们】【走】!” 【没】【有】【理】【会】【地】【上】【那】【家】【伙】,【七】【霜】【招】【呼】【了】【一】【声】,【立】【时】【窜】【了】【出】【去】。 “【哦】!” 【小】【男】【孩】【应】【了】【一】【声】,【急】【忙】【跟】【上】。 【待】【得】【两】【人】【的】【身】【影】【消】【失】【在】【眼】【前】,【地】【上】【那】【人】【这】【才】【长】【舒】【了】【一】【口】【气】,【而】【后】【连】【滚】【带】【爬】【地】【逃】【向】【远】【方】。 【七】【霜】【两】【人】【一】【路】【疾】【行】,【大】【约】【跑】【出】【去】【近】【一】【里】【之】【后】,【远】【远】【就】【看】【到】【一】【名】【背】【着】【红】【色】【大】【镰】【刀】【的】【男】【子】,

  “【发】【妻】?” 【毕】【晟】【的】【表】【情】【有】【些】【破】【碎】,【却】【不】【似】【难】【看】,“【早】【传】【闻】【百】【里】【执】【法】【官】【已】【大】【婚】,【却】【不】【见】【身】【旁】【有】【一】【女】【子】【出】【入】,【便】【以】【为】【是】【传】【言】【不】【可】【信】,【没】【想】【到】,【竟】【然】【是】【真】【的】。” “【夫】【人】【向】【来】【深】【居】【简】【出】,【不】【问】【世】【事】。” 【既】【然】【是】【百】【里】【弑】【的】【夫】【人】,【毕】【晟】【自】【然】【没】【有】【理】【由】【动】【手】,【更】【何】【况】【他】【本】【来】【也】【就】【是】【想】【造】【就】【声】【势】【而】【已】,【现】【如】【今】… “【夫】【人】【心】

  【张】【知】【水】【的】【视】【角】【跟】【着】【这】【个】【刚】【出】【生】【的】【小】【女】【孩】【不】【断】【的】【流】【转】,【从】【婴】【儿】【到】【童】【年】,【从】【童】【年】【到】【青】【年】。 【小】【女】【孩】【罗】【钰】【的】【天】【资】【非】【常】【的】【不】【错】,【在】【仅】【仅】【二】【十】【岁】【的】【时】【候】【就】【已】【经】【进】【入】【了】【先】【天】【的】【境】【界】,【就】【是】【在】【天】【香】【成】【已】【有】【的】【记】【录】【中】【都】【是】【少】【有】【的】【存】【在】。 【深】【夜】,【皎】【洁】【的】【月】【光】【从】【天】【上】【泻】【了】【下】【来】,【在】【人】【间】【勾】【勒】【出】【一】【丝】【明】【净】【的】【气】【氛】。【张】【知】【水】【感】【受】【着】【这】【月】【光】【的】【一】

       张恒为郑爽写歌  中国家进博会  惠 泽 社 群 四 肖 单 双 特 段   无限火力猫咪烬 
[发消息] [看主贴]
发表于 2019-03-04 08:25:11 2#



#第二届上海进博会是什么时间#【南】【海】【第】【一】【航】【母】【编】【队】【上】【侦】【察】【机】【在】【空】【中】【不】【停】【的】【盘】【旋】,【各】【种】【信】【息】【飞】【快】【的】【汇】【总】【到】【航】【母】【的】【控】【制】【室】【中】,【航】【母】【国】【之】【重】【器】,【大】【国】【海】【上】【主】【权】【的】【保】【障】。 【南】【海】【第】【一】【航】【母】【编】【队】【使】【用】【的】【航】【母】【乃】【是】【华】【夏】【的】【一】【艘】【老】【牌】【航】【母】,【其】【编】【队】【很】【是】【齐】【全】,【其】【中】【包】【括】【战】【机】【编】【队】,【潜】【艇】【编】【队】,【巡】【洋】【舰】【编】【队】,【驱】【逐】【舰】【编】【队】,【以】【及】【支】【援】【舰】【编】【队】。 【武】【力】【甚】【是】【强】【大】,【无】【不】【彰】
[发消息] [看主贴]
发表于 2019-10-19 02:30:22 3#



#期货公司有什么监管#【看】【着】【手】【下】【一】【点】【一】【点】【向】【前】【摸】【索】【过】【去】,**【停】【留】【在】【原】【地】,【有】【时】【间】【朝】【周】【围】【观】【察】。 【到】【了】【这】【里】【较】【为】【开】【阔】【的】【地】【方】,**【借】【着】【手】【中】【火】【把】【灰】【暗】【的】【灯】【光】,【才】【发】【现】,【这】【看】【似】【平】【整】【的】【地】【面】,【实】【际】【上】【也】【掩】【盖】【不】【住】,【最】【边】【缘】【有】【人】【工】【开】【挖】【的】【痕】【迹】。 **【专】【门】【上】【手】【摸】【了】【摸】,【发】【现】【那】【里】【的】【手】【感】【与】【一】【般】【的】【山】【石】【泥】【土】【不】【同】。 【一】【时】【间】,**【只】【感】【觉】【比】【较】
[发消息] [看主贴]
发表于 2019-10-12 23:10:02 3#



#人最大的安全感是#【一】【身】【宫】【装】【的】【沈】【阑】【珊】【走】【进】【来】,“【主】【子】,【秦】【医】【师】【他】【们】【已】【经】【在】【偏】【厅】【等】【候】。” 【风】【夙】【月】【起】【身】,【向】【殿】【外】【走】【去】。 【帝】【飞】【天】【无】【奈】,【有】【心】【一】【起】【去】,【想】【到】【要】【去】【历】【练】,【朝】【中】【还】【有】【很】【多】【事】【要】【处】【理】,【只】【能】【作】【罢】。 【风】【夙】【月】【命】【沈】【阑】【珊】【带】【他】【们】【来】,【就】【是】【要】【教】【他】【们】【更】【深】【层】【次】【的】【医】【术】。 【将】【他】【们】【培】【养】【出】【来】,【不】【仅】【能】【够】【完】【成】【灵】【铺】【的】【任】【务】,【还】【能】【从】【中】【选】【出】