以下是小编整理的情感类英语美文欣赏： 家的含义，希望对你有所感触。

家的含义

Home Truth

It was the smell of rain that I missed the most andthe sound of a lawnmower and the waft of cutgrass. It was being out in the open and standingbare foot! Blue skies part and parcel of it all; thethunder that would blast over and leave—the comingof a tropical sundown, an evening of barbecues, ofwarm pools, beer splattering on concrete. The bedawaiting, a vest, a body glistening from perspirationand a sleep of pillows constantly changing sides, a mosquito in the ear. Sleepless nights thatwere all you knew. And then, one day I left it behind. I moved to a city, to grim faced pallidmovements, and there I became with them a ghost on the sidewalks. Dimly, ambling along withmy face down, watching my steps and hurrying towards my quotidian activities.

Winters I spent indoor in solace. My flat mates—the friends I had—worked day and night. Theywere accustomed to leaving the soul behind, the need for money was so official. I would spendnights in the strange house, with creaks of a wall I did not know, and sit by the phone that ourlandlord had locked, and think of conversations of the past, of my mother's voice ringing, of mybest friend whom I would lose contact with, and I would write letters, letters I would neversend, letters that clutched the truth—that only I knew. I would cry, tears staining the ink, asmudged idea of love. I was temping then, doing mindless data entry, tapping words into acomputer, and moving on wondering what worth there was, and how to find it. My flat mateswould come home just before midnight—Mark and Craig, my two best friends. I would smileinwardly and outwardly and make them tea, a sandwich, sit with them and live their lives, heartheir stories, flourish in company. Sleep would be eschewed, I yearned for comfort, andcompany eased the etching of loneliness.

I drank a lot, I had a job and I met people, and I continued my ambling in a city that was notmine. Every Friday my work offered free drinks and I catapulted towards the bar, I sipped8)ferociously at the wine, the beer, I got horrifically drunk and so the person that I was not, butso yearned to be would come out. She, loud, vivacious, articulate would spend the eveningconversing with strangers, laughing and sometimes, flirting! I seemed to step out of myself andwatch in amazement. After drinks, I would stumble to the Palladium to meet Mark and Craig—they both worked there as ushers. I would arrive as they were finishing work and we would sitin the bar and I would continue, I would drink.

One night we fell drunk into the house. I lit a cigarette; I sat down and my mind triggered offdull thuds of depression. I went to the bathroom and in a mode of translucent mania I tookout a razor blade and in numb motions slowly cut at my wrist, tears streaming down my face,I stopped as soon as I started, my aim was wrong-it was in the name of attention, except Iwould tell nobody, the attention was all to myself. Quietly, I wrapped my stinging arm with toiletpaper, walked to my room and put on a jersey so as to cover the threat, the childish selfabuse. I lay and quickly wiped my tears as I heard the friendly footsteps of Mark and Craig.They stood and bantered and eventually I followed them downstairs, and listened to BobMarley, and Redemption song, my favorite song—"Sold I to the merchant ships…"

And so, I stood on the tube, Dollis Hill to Marylebone and I stared at the scars on my wrist.The scars of stupidity that only I knew of, I was entranced, as though it were not me—it'snever me. I swayed to the motion of the train, the city was corrupting me, my soul was slowlybitten, I wanted to yell out my mind, but it all seeped inwards, I was boring myself with myown pleas.

It got better, as it does get better, as you know no better and I sunk into my life, I slowlyenjoyed its offerings, I adjusted to the climate, to the people and one day as I walked outsidemy new flat—not mine of course, but my temporary abode that I rented, as I took out thegarbage on a autumn Saturday—in my pyjamas, with the TV and the glow of comfort, I lookedat the grey, I sucked it in and I quite enjoyed it—it's romantic quality, it's gloom appealed tome, as it would eventually with my nature. I liked it. I went inside, and shivered—a contentchill, I enjoyed the cold and the idea of being able to get warm and I lay on the couch with mytoes under a cushion, an inane program keeping me entertained. It all grows on you.

I went home, eventually. I spent five months appreciating the beauty, the climate, the contentnatures surrounding me. I ate healthy food, I listened to a language I had forgotten about, Iroamed on farms that were not mine, went to wine harvests, put on high factors to shield outthe sun, spend days lamenting the heat. But, it was not time, I was unable to indulge as thecity, London, was still with me, my love and loathing relationship was still continuing, I was stillmeant to be there, whether unhappy or not. I could not explain it, it's not the city I suppose,it's me-I need to be content. I left, I left what I love so much, no great epiphany, just not atthat moment. One day home will come to me, or I will go to home and I await the knowledge inpeace.