連續兩年沒有在台灣過年了，上次感覺尚不強烈，今年卻年關愈近愈是想家。前幾天看到一篇文章很精準地寫出了遊子對家的矛盾，想要藉翻譯來抒發思鄉之情。

When you grow up, all you ever do is leave. You leave people, situations, and places. You often wonder where home is because you always feel like a fish out of water wherever you go. You make a home for yourself in the city. You decorate it with plants, posters of a treasured rock band, and furniture that you got from the flea market. Sometimes, it gets awfully quiet; other times, it's filled with the voices of your new favourite people. When it gets too silent, you call your Mother 1200 miles away and ask her about her day. You like to listen to her sometimes, but when she asks about yours, you gabble and say you're okay and then bid goodbye. You don't want to trouble her with your issues. It never completely feels like home because you are always missing something—your school friends, the old town roads, your Grandma's pickles, your cousins, evening drives, the smell of your room, and your family.

隨時間流逝，你發現你總是在道別。你向曾朝夕相處的人們說再見，你結束幾段刻骨銘心的經歷，你離開一度你以為永遠不會離開的地方。你在離去之際總會想，到底哪裡是你的家呢？為什麼不管在哪裡總沒有真正融入的感覺？

你在一座大城市安身，替你的住處弄了幾盆小植栽裝飾，貼了幾張知名搖滾樂團的海報在牆上，以及那從二手商店掏來的幾張桌椅。你的住處有時候混雜了你新朋友的笑鬧聲，有時候則靜默得讓人害怕；當你覺得週遭太安靜時，你就打給你那千里以外的老爸，問候他一切可好。你喜歡聽他說話，但當他問起你的生活時總讓你措手不及，慌忙地說一切都好然後掛斷電話。並不是一切都好，你只是不想拿你的事情來讓他徒增困擾。

你從來沒有在這裡感受到家的感覺，因為你總是在想念某些東西——求學時期的好朋友，老家附近的馬路，阿嬤弄的手工泡菜，每年過年才會見到的同輩親戚，傍晚擁擠的車潮與人潮，或者是你房間的味道以及你家人的講話聲。

And when you return to your hometown, you miss the comfort of living in your own place, Sunday brunches, your new friends, going on random trips, meeting strangers, and the view from your balcony. The silence that used to bother you in your new home is something that you crave when you return. You realise that this will never be over, the way that you are feeling. Maybe, you will get used to it when you get older. But right now, you are in your 20s, and life is already hard. And no matter how much you want to feel at home, you often end up missing things you're far away from.

然而當你風塵僕僕的從遠方返家，你卻開始想念在原本的城市，不受他人打擾的生活步調，想念週日常吃的那家早午餐店，想念你時常來作客的新朋友，想念說走就走的旅行，想念在路上認識的陌生人以及從租屋處陽台就能看到的美景。

新家曾經讓你不堪其擾的靜謐，在你回到擁擠的舊家時卻變成你最渴望的東西。你意識到這樣根本沒完沒了，也許當你年紀更大你會慢慢習慣這種感覺，但現在你才二十多歲，生活竟已是如此艱難，不管你多麼想要享受在家的感覺，你往往發現你實際在想念遠方你曾擁有的一切。

You think that maybe the romantics are right. Maybe, you will find home in some other person, a better half. But the truth is that you will find a piece of you in every place you have ever been, in every person you have ever loved. You paint your nails the way that senior in your school did when you were 12 years old. And there's an album in the corner of your room that your first kiss suggested for you to listen to, and that's how you discovered your favourite rock band. You find your habits lingering in the way your brother arranges his books—separating hardcovers from paperbacks and organising them by colour. Nobody does that, you think.

好吧，你開始覺得那些兩性作家講的話有些道理，也許當你找到完美的另一半時，你就有家的感覺了。

但真相是——你會在你去過的每個地方、你愛過的每個人，找到一部份的自己。

你穿搭的款式是模仿你大學學姐的；你放在房間角落的唱片是你初吻對象推薦的，而那是你如何和你最愛的搖滾樂團邂逅的方式；你想到你跟你哥一樣都會把書按照平裝、精裝本分門別類，還得照顏色排序，你覺得根本沒有其他人會做這種怪事。

You realise that blueberry yogurt on toast and little flowers of butter and orange jam isn't your recipe; it's the way your Mother used to make toast for you when you were five. You notice that your best friend still plays your road trip playlist when she drives, and you cook chicken the same way your roommate in college taught you. You share your habit of clicking pictures of flowers by the roads with your Dad, and like your ex, you always check traffic on maps before leaving. Even if you don't talk to them anymore, you will always have tenderness in your heart for people. You will realise that so much of them is you, and so much of you is them.

你意識到把滷蛋蛋黃弄進湯裡攪散並不是你發明的，那是你爸在你五歲感冒時餵你吃麵的方式；你注意到你的好友開車時還在播你們大學畢業旅行放的公路歌單；你煮義大利麵的方式是你大學室友教你的。你跟你媽一樣都會被路上的野花驚艷並拍下照片；你被前任影響，到現在不管要去哪裡都還是會先看地圖的路況。

即使你現在很少或再也不跟他們說話了，但你仍然把他們珍藏在你內心深處，因為你知道他們在許多地方潛移默化了你，而你也默默的影響他們好多。

You realise that's why you can never feel completely at home because a part of your heart is always wandering in some other memory, in a different place that you used to call home. Your love spreads endlessly, and you realise that this is what happens when you have the joy of experiencing so many different kinds of loves and friendships. As you mature, you learn that departing isn't merely about leaving; instead, it's about carrying a piece of others with you and leaving a part of yourself behind. It transforms you into a magnificent collage, a gem woven from the threads of all those you've loved, of all those you are ever going to love.

你終於意識到為什麼你永遠無法在哪一個地方完全感受到家的感覺，因為總有一部份的你徜徉在其他回憶之中，想念一個與當下所處截然不同，但你也曾稱為家的地方。你的愛隨著思緒無止盡的延伸，而你發現這是經歷那麼多段不同的愛與友誼，最讓你感到奇妙的地方。隨著你逐漸成熟，你了解到離去並不僅僅只是離開；實際上，它是關於你如何留下一部份的自己，並帶著一部份的其他人與你一起啟程。透過不斷的道別，把你轉化成一幅，由你所愛過、與未來將要愛的人們組成的，壯麗的拼貼畫。

And someday, that feeling will be home enough.

到那時，你就有家的感覺了。

出處，作者 Rae Pathak