（选自《短文读本范文》，Mary Lou Conlin 编，Houghton Mifflin，1983）
2. 本句中 (in) limbo 语带双关。一方面，如题目中以单个词出现的“limbo”，根据上下文，宜取“transitional, intermediate place”之义，因短文通篇叙述的在车库等待父亲与搬家的卡车到来的这段时光，无论时间或空间上都属于一种“中间地带/过渡地带”（介乎旧家与新家、旧生活与新生活之间）；另一方面，“in limbo”形成固定搭配，意为“in a state of uncertainty”，堆在车库中的物品实体上处于“待搬未搬”的某种不确状态，与上下文所烘托的伤感而略带“茫然”的心情又产生情感上的融合。考虑到 limbo 是本文的关键词，而本句在全文中唯一一处出现该词，显然也有意与题目遥相呼应，因此，本句翻译在表现“茫然、待决”（in limbo）的同时，还刻意重复“过渡地带”（limbo），以再现原文对 limbo 在形式上的重复。
3. 经考证，此处 furnace 应指在北美地区广泛使用的“热风采暖系统”，使用设在地下室内的暖风机将室外的冷空气加热后，经设在墙内的风管送到卧室、起居室，这部分空气分别再经过厨房、卫生间，排至室外。欧洲地区则更多使用“热水供暖系统，”称为 boiler。（详见 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forced-air）。
4. 很多离房子不远的车库会在侧墙上开一个方便人员进出的门，叫service door，作者刚才是站在“房子与车库之间的门道上”，指的就是这个门。同时若离主建筑较近，通常要求车库地面比主建筑地面略低，以防车库内汽油泄漏殃及主建筑安全，这种情况下，service door 门内会有一步往下的台阶。
My parents’ divorce was final. The house had been sold and the day had come to move. Thirty years of the family’s life was now crammed into the garage. The two-by-fours that ran the length of the walls were the only uniformity among the clutter of boxes, furniture, and memories. All was frozen in limbo between the life just passed and the one to come.
The sunlight pushing its way through the window splattered against a barricade of boxes. Like a fluorescent river, it streamed down the sides and flooded the cracks of the cold, cement floor. I stood in the doorway between the house and garage and wondered if the sunlight would ever again penetrate the memories packed inside those boxes. For an instant, the cardboard boxes appeared as tombstones, monuments to those memories.
The furnace in the corner, with its huge tubular fingers reaching out and disappearing into the wall, was unaware of the futility of trying to warm the empty house. The rhythmical whir of its effort hummed the elegy for the memories boxed in front of me. I closed the door, sat down on the step, and listened reverently. The feeling of loss transformed the bad memories into not-so-bad, the not-so-bad memories into good, and committed the good ones to my mind. Still, I felt as vacant as the house inside.
A workbench to my right stood disgustingly empty. Not so much as a nail had been left behind. I noticed, for the first time, what a dull, lifeless green it was. Lacking the disarray of tools that used to cover it, now it seemed as out of place as a bathtub in the kitchen. In fact, as I scanned the room, the only things that did seem to belong were the cobwebs in the corners.
A group of boxes had been set aside from the others and stacked in front of the workbench. Scrawled like graffiti on the walls of dilapidated buildings were the words “Salvation Army.” Those words caught my eyes as effectively as a flashing neon sign. They reeked of irony. “Salvation - was a bit too late for this family,” I mumbled sarcastically to myself.
The houseful of furniture that had once been so carefully chosen to complement and blend with the color schemes of the various rooms was indiscriminately crammed together against a single wall. The uncoordinated colors combined in turmoil and lashed out in the greyness of the room.
I suddenly became aware of the coldness of the garage, but I didn’t want to go back inside the house, so I made my way through the boxes to the couch. I cleared a space to lie down and curled up, covering myself with my jacket. I hoped my father would return soon with the truck so we could empty the garage and leave the cryptic silence of parting lives behind.
（选自Patterns: A Short Prose Reader, by Mary Lou Conlin, published by Houghton Mifflin, 1983.）