Spontaneity has never been my forte. As a 14－year－old, I would refuse to go for walks around the block with my friends if I was the least bit behind in my schoolwork. " You're just no fun," my friend Karen would tell me.
Unlike most teenagers, I lived not in my room, but in an unused kitchen upstairs where I sprawled my books and papers on a large round table. I spent an inordinate amount of time there, working continuously for hours, and my mother worried. She would try to lure me away. " Come watch the parade!" she would yell from downstaris. " All our neighbors are out there!" She thought of all kinds of enticements――the swimming pool, ice cream, stray cats and turtles――to dislodge me from my studies, but nothing ever worked.
Later, in college, the pattern continued. The library and my college dorm replaced the unused kitchen at home. When spring came along friends would stop by my dorm or peer into my library cubicle to persuade me to play Frisbee on the lawn outside the main building. " No," I would almost always say. " I have too much to do."
My college study days are gone, but not my need and love for schedules. They keep me focused. Justify my time. My friends and sisters try to pry me away from my plans in much the same way that my mom tried to coax me out of the kitchen, but they're hardly ever successful.
This summer, though, while housesitting for my parents, I was persuaded to change my plans in the most unexpected way. The sight of tomatoes growing in my mother's garden lured me out of my tightly scheduled world. They drew me with the power of a lover's gaze.
Hundreds of them were turning ripe and red by the minute. Large beefsteak tomatoes――some doubled but not yet divided――hung heavily or dropped from their vines.Plum tomatoes――half－green,half－red――and cherry tomatoes, too many to count,decorated the garden like ornaments on a Christmas tree.They begged for attention.
" If I have time,I'll make tomato sauce." I told myself.But my long week in the house by myself was already filled with things to do: writing,building my photography portfolio,and finishing a project that I brought home from the office.
Making tomato sauce was humdrum domestic work that did not contribute to my goals and ,more important, wasn't scheduled.But there they hung from their vines,dropping to the ground with muted thumps, beckoning me. I picked them and placed them in baskets. I arranged them, adding string beans,peas,and onions that I pulled from the garden.I put them in the green house so that the light could hit it just right.
I ate them for lunch and dinner. I gave them to friends. But they continued to fall to the ground in even－greater numbers. " If I have time, I'll make sauce," I told myself one more time. And again I mentally argued about all the things I had planned and needed to do.
Finally, I gave in.
I picked up the recipe that I had scribbled down from a friend. " Simmer in a little bit of water with garlic and onions for two hours. Add sugar, oregano, basil, thyme, rosemary," it read. I rummaged for 20 minutes in the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a huge white enamel pot. I washed the tomatoes, cutting away sections that were spoiled, and sliced and threw them into the pot. I swayed and jiggled the watery mixture as if I were panning for gold.
I tend to work in silence, but at that moment I――yes, spontaneously――decided to turn on the stereo. I sang along with Billy Joel and reviewed a step I'd picked up in my swing－dance class. The tomatoes simmered, their aroma blending with the breeze coming in from the open windows.
The old voice returned. " You should be reading, doing stuff," it told me. So I lowered the volume but, instead of reading The New York Times Sunday Magazine――as I had planned――I flipped through the furnishings and crafts in Better Home ＆ Garden. It was one of thoes rare occasions when I ignored the crotchety old voice that spoiled my fun.
Something clicked inside me.I recalled the moments that could have been.I looked back on my college days when students crowded in front of the lawn.I wondered where I might have gone and what I might have done had I accepted more invitations to be among them.I thought of the conversations that I did not have,the people I never met.
As I sat there flipping through the magazine, I smiled that I didn't listen to the voice that told me I was off schedule.
[参考译文]一时冲动心血来潮地做某件事向来不是我的专长。14岁的时候，哪怕有一点作业没做完，我都不会丢开书本和朋友出去玩。因此，好友卡伦常对我说："你呀，别老那么一本正经的。"
和大多数十几岁的孩子不一样的是，我并不住在卧室，而是住在楼上一个空厨房里。厨房的大圆桌上堆满了我的书本和草稿纸。我经常在那儿呆很久，一学就是几个小时。母亲很担心，她总是想办法让我下楼放松放松。有时她就在楼下喊："快来看呐，有人在游行，邻居们都去了!"要不就说去游泳啦，吃冰淇淋啦，玩小野猫小乌龟啦什么的--试图把我从学习中解放出来，但总不奏效。
后来上了大学，我还是那样，只不过图书馆和寝室代替了家里的空厨房。春天到了，朋友们就到寝室或图书馆的小单间去找我，拉我到外面去玩飞盘，而我总是说："不行，我还有很多事要做呢。"
大学生活转眼即逝，而我仍习惯于按部就班地做每件事。这样我才能集中精力而不会浪费时间。虽然朋友们和姐姐们也像母亲当初哄我出厨房那样，尝试着各种花样让我放弃一些计划，可总是以失败而告终。
可这个夏天，当父母外出我在家看房子时，我出乎意料地改变了原有的计划。那天，我看到母亲在小花园里种的那些番茄，就像受到了情人目光的牵引，走出了原本计划周密的世界。
几百个红番茄就要成熟了。大个儿的"牛肉番茄"--有的甚至有两个番茄那么大--沉甸甸地压着枝头，有的则熟透落在地上；那些红中带青的是"梅子番茄"；还有那些深红色的"樱桃番茄"--多得数都数不过来，就像圣诞树上的小饰物，把整个花园装点得美丽极了，着实令人喜爱。
"我要是有时间的话就做些番茄酱。"虽然心里这么想，可独自在家的这段日子已经被我安排得满满的：写点文章，收集一些摄影作品，还要搞定一个上班时没有做完的计划。
而做番茄酱只是无聊时做的家务，对我的工作没什么帮助；更重要的是这并不在我的计划之内。可那些挂在枝头的番茄频频向我招手，有的落在地上悄无声息。我摘了几个放到篮子里，又从园子里摘来菜豆、豌豆和洋葱，接着把它们一起放在温室，充分接触光源。
我的午餐和晚餐都少不了番茄，还送了一些给朋友。但园子里掉到地上的番茄越来越多。我又一次对自己说："我要是有时间的话，就做点番茄酱。"但心里老想着原本要做的事。我矛盾极了。
最终我投降了。
我找到从朋友那里抄来的食谱，上面写着"加大蒜和洋葱，文火煮两个小时。再加糖、牛至、紫苏、百里香、迷迭香即可。"我在厨房里翻箱倒柜找了20分钟，才拖出一个白色大搪瓷罐。我把番茄洗干净，挖去烂掉的部分，再切碎和在一起装进搪瓷罐。我抱着搪瓷罐就像淘金子那样使劲把这些水汪汪的混合物摇匀。
接下来我打算安静地做自己的事。但突然，我--真是心血来潮--决定打开收音机，还跟着比利·乔唱了一段，踏着我在舞蹈课上学过的舞步。厨房里炉子上的番茄正用文火煮着，散发出来的香气和着窗外的微风飘进屋来。
这时，我耳边又想起熟悉的声音："你该读书了，你该做这个该做那个了。"于是我把音量调小。可我没有看《纽约时报周日杂志》，而是翻了翻《家居与园艺》，看看摆设和工具什么的。像这样无视那扼杀了我的乐趣的古怪声音，还真是屈指可数。
我总算是开了窍。想想以前的日子，想想大学时同学们聚集在草坪前，要是当时我接受他们的邀请，更多地跟他们在一起，不知现在会是什么样子?想想过去我很少和别人交谈，也很少跟别人接触!
我坐在那里翻看杂志，想到自己不理会那古怪声音说我没有按部就班，我由衷地笑了。
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(责任编辑：sammy)