“Did you find the ’s phone?” my grandson asked, looking at me with a patient smile. The smell of dust and old paper filled the quiet room where I sat, holding the cold awkwardly. It was my first time trying to use a smartphone, and I felt stuck between duty and desire. My at the local community center wanted me to learn fast, but this small confused my fingers like a .
“你找到经理的手机了吗？”我孙子问我，脸上带着耐心的笑容。 尘土和旧纸张的气味弥漫在安静的证据保管室里，我坐在里面，有些笨拙地握着冰冷的手机。 这是我第一次尝试使用智能手机，我感到责任和渴望之间的挣扎。 我所在的社区中心团队希望我能快速学会，但这个小屏幕让我的手指像解谜一样感到困惑。
“Not yet,” I answered, watching the clock tick toward the slow of the day. The police ’s evidence team had let me stay here after hours to learn with less . An from the tech came by to explain, but the words sounded like a foreign language. I wanted to do this for my family, but inside I wondered if I could really join this new world.
“还没呢，”我回答道，看着时钟滴答作响，指向一天缓慢的截止时间。 警察局的证据处理小组允许我在下班后留在这里学习，这样压力会小一些。 一位技术支持的员工过来解释，但那些话听起来像外语一样。 我想为我的家人做到这一点，但内心深处我却在想，我是否真的能融入这个新的数字世界。
After a while, my grandson showed me how to and , his voice calm and steady. The manager’s phone finally lit up, and I felt hope like a small light breaking through the shadows. “You see? You’re already good,” he said, and I smiled, imagining how soon I might with my own grandchildren without fear. Maybe tomorrow, I thought, I’ll look at this phone not as a stranger, but as a friend.
过了一会儿，我孙子平静而稳定地告诉我如何滑动和点击。 经理的手机终于亮了起来，我感到一丝希望，就像微光穿透了阴影。 “你看？你已经很棒了，”他说，我微笑着，想象着不久的将来我就可以毫无畏惧地与自己的孙辈们联系了。 也许明天吧，我想，我会把这部手机看作是朋友，而不是陌生人。
