Forty-three years seems like a long time to remember the name of a mere acquaintance. I have forgotten the name of an old lady, who was a customer on the paper route in my home town when I was a twelve-year-old boy. Yet it dwells in my memory that she taught me a lesson in forgiveness that I shall never forget.

On a winter afternoon, a friend and I were throwing stones onto the slanted roof of the old lady's house from a spot near her backyard. The object of our play was to observe how the stones changed to missiles as they rolled to the roof's edge and shot out into the yard like comets falling from the sky. I found myself a perfectly smooth rock and threw it out. The stone was too smooth, however, so it slipped from my hand as I let it go and headed straight not for the roof but for a small window on the old lady's back porch . At the sound of fractured glass, we knew we were in trouble. We turned tail and ran faster than any of our missiles flew off her roof.

I was too scared about getting caught that first night to be concerned about the old lady with the broken window in winter. However, a few days later, when I was sure that I hadn't been discovered, I started to feel guilty for her misfortune. She still greeted me with a smile each day when I gave her the paper, but I was no longer able to act comfortable in her presence.

I made up my mind that I would save my paper delivery money, and in three weeks I had the seven dollars that I calculated would cover the cost of her window. I put the money in an envelope with a note explaining that I was sorry for breaking her window and hoped that the seven dollars would cover the cost for repairing it.

I waited until it was dark, snuck up to the old lady's house, and put the letter I didn't sign through the letter slot in her door. My soul felt redeemed and I could have the freedom of, once again, looking straight into the old lady's kind eyes.

The next day, I handed the old lady her paper and was able to return the warm smile that I was receiving from her. She thanked me for the paper and gave me a bag of cookies she had made herself. I thanked her and proceeded to eat the cookies as I continued my route.

After several cookies, I felt an envelope and pulled it out of the bag. When I opened the envelope, I was stunned. Inside were the seven dollars and a short note that said, "I'm proud of you."

记住一个仅是认识的人的名字，43年似乎是段很长的时间。我已经忘了那位老太太的名字，她是我12岁那年在家乡送报时的一位客户。不过，她曾给我上的那堂关于“宽恕”的课却始终让我难以忘怀。

一个冬天的下午，我和一个朋友在离这个老太太家屋后不远的一个地方往她家斜斜的屋顶上扔石子玩。我们的目的是观察这些石子如何顺着屋顶的斜坡变成一颗发射物，在滚落到屋顶边缘的瞬间，像滑过天空的彗星那样射入院中。我给自己找了颗十分光滑的石子，然后扔了出去。但是，这颗石子太光滑了，出手的一刹那，它偏离了方向。它没有落在屋顶上，反而直接击中了老太太屋后门廊上的一扇小窗户。听到玻璃破碎的声音，我们知道闯祸了。我们掉头拔腿就跑，跑得比任何一颗从她屋顶发射的石子都要快。

当天晚上，我太害怕被抓住，没有考虑到冬天里的破玻璃窗会给老太太带来什么样的麻烦。但是，过了几天，当我确信自己没被发现时，就开始对给她带来的倒霉事感到内疚了。每天我给她送报纸时，她依旧笑眯眯地迎接我。不过，在她面前，我已经不像过去那样自在了。

我决定把送报挣的钱攒起来。三周后，我便有了7美元。我估计这大概够赔偿她的窗户了。我把钱装进一个信封，并附上一张纸条，解释说我对打破她家的窗户感到很抱歉，希望这7美元足够赔付修窗户的钱。

我一直等到天黑，才悄悄走到她家门前，把这封没有署名的信从信箱口投进了她家。做完这件事情后，我感到自己的灵魂好像得到了解脱，获得了新的自由，能够重新正视老太太慈祥的目光了。

第二天，当老太太微笑着从我手上接过报纸时，我也能向她回报一个热情的微笑。她对我的送报工作表示感谢，送了我一纸袋她亲手做的饼干。谢过她后，我一边吃着饼干，一边继续去给别的客户送报纸。

吃了几块饼干后，我摸到了一个信封，就把它拽了出来。当我打开信封时，我不禁怔住了。信封里有7美元和一张纸条，上面写道：“我为你感到骄傲。”

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