From that moment on, Carl and Ellie were best friends. When they were nineteen, they got married. They moved into Ellie's clubhouse and had fun fixing it up. Ellie hammered shingles onto the roof. Carl put up a new weather vane. Ellie pulled out her old adventure book, and Carl painted the house so that it looked exactly like the clubhouse in Ellie's drawing.

One day, Carl leaned against the mailbox, admiring Ellie's work as she painted their names on the side. But when he pulled back, he gasped. He'd left a handprint in the paint! Ellie smiled and put her hand in the paint, too. When she pulled it away, it looked as if their prints were holding hands.

They worked on the house every day, and the days turned into weeks. Sometimes they took a break. They would sit in two comfy chairs that were placed side by side in the living room. Other times they would climb to the top of their favorite hill and have a picnic. They liked to lie in the grass, stare up at the sky, and watch the clouds transform into different shapes, like turtles and elephants.

Ellie got a job at the local zoo, taking care of the animals in the South America House. Carl worked at the zoo, too. He sold balloons from a cart. Sometimes Carl had so many balloons, the cart would rise right off the ground!

The weeks turned into months. Ellie and Carl looked through her adventure book and dreamed of traveling to Paradise Falls. Ellie painted a lovely picture of their house atop the tepui. They hung the picture over the fireplace. Carl added a poster of South America. Ellie put up a hand-woven rug, a piece of pottery, and a figurine of a tropical bird.

For the finishing touch, Carl placed a toy blimp on the mantel and a glass jar on the table. A label on the jar read PARADISE FALLS. Carl and Ellie tossed their spare change into the jar whenever they could.

But they never had much money. And they always seemed to need to spend the money they had—a new tire for the car, a cast for Carl's broken leg, a new roof for the house. But Carl and Ellie didn't worry. They knew they would get to South America someday.

The months turned into years.

Carl sold his balloons, and Ellie cared for the zoo animals. At night, they danced in the living room. They always had fun together.

One day, when they had been married more than thirty years, Carl realized that they had been waiting long enough. He decided to surprise Ellie. He bought two plane tickets to South America and tucked them into a picnic basket. But when they were on the way up their favorite hill, Ellie fell down.

Ellie went to the hospital, and for a while it looked as if she might get better. But she didn't. Instead, Carl went to her funeral with a bouquet of blue balloons.

Then he went home. For the first time since he was eight years old, Carl was completely alone.

The alarm clock buzzed, and Carl searched for his glasses. He sat up in bed, rubbing his face. He was an old man now. Waking up isn't as easy as it used to be, he thought as he stretched. His bones creaked and cracked. He grabbed his cane, which had tennis balls stuck to the bottom prongs for traction, and rode his elderly-assistance chair down the staircase. It took Carl a long, long time to get downstairs.

Carl ate breakfast, then puttered around the house. He dusted the mantel above the fireplace, where he and Ellie had collected all their special adventure items. Carl made sure to carefully replace the tropical-bird figurine next to the pair of binoculars and a framed photo of Ellie as a young girl. Then he slowly walked to the front door, put on his hat, and adjusted the grape-soda pin on his lapel. He paused to check his reflection in the mirror before he unlocked all the locks on the front door and walked out to the porch.

The neighborhood had changed over the years. In fact, it wasn't much of a neighborhood anymore. Every other house on the block had been torn down. A construction crew was building new high-rise apartments.

"Quite a sight, huh, Ellie?" Carl said as he watched the bulldozers crawl over the dirt. Carl knew that Ellie was no longer there to hear him. But he still liked to talk to her sometimes. After all, the house was filled with things they had made together. Everything about it reminded him of her.

Carl's eyes fell on the mailbox. It hadn't changed since the day Ellie had painted it. It still had both their names—and their handprints. A few letters poked from its door.

"Mail's here!" Carl announced. He tottered to the box and pulled out a brochure. Good-looking elderly people smiled up at him from the bright pamphlet. "Shady Oaks Retirement. Oh, brother." Carl noticed that the mailbox was covered with dust. Frowning, he picked up a leaf blower and blew the dust away.

"Hey! Morning, Mr. Fredricksen!" a construction worker named Tom called over to him. "Need any help there?"

"Yes. Tell your boss over there that you boys are ruining our house," Carl growled , glancing over at a businessman talking on his cell phone. "Well, just to let you know, my boss would be happy to take this old place off your hands, and for double his last offer," Tom replied. "What do you say to that?"

In answer, Carl blasted Tom with the leaf blower.

"Uh, I'll take that as a no, then," Tom said.

"I believe I made my position to your boss quite clear," Carl said.

"You poured prune juice in his gas tank," Tom replied.

Carl chuckled. "Oh, yeah, that was good."

"This is serious," Tom said, frowning. "He's out to get your house."

Carl turned and went back up his front steps."Tell your boss he can have our house," he called back over his shoulder. "When I'm dead!" He slammed the door.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "I'll take that as a maybe."

Inside the house, Carl sat down in his chair and turned on the television.

"If you order right now," said the man on the screen, "you're gonna get the camera. You're gonna get the printer. You're gonna get the …"

Carl's eyelids felt heavy. His head started to nod.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. Carl got up and shuffled over to answer it.

A boy in a Junior Wilderness Explorer uniform was standing on Carl's porch. He wore a sash covered in badges, and he was holding a Wilderness Explorer handbook. "Good afternoon," the boy read from his handbook, "my name is Russell, and I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tribe Fifty-four, Sweat Lodge Twelve. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?"

"No," Carl said.

"I could help you cross the street," Russell suggested.

"No."

"I could help you cross your yard."

"No."

"I could help you cross your porch."

"No."

"Well, I've got to help you cross something," Russell insisted.

"Uh, no," Carl said. "I'm doing fine." He shut the door in Russell's face.

Carl stood in the hallway, listening. But he didn't hear Russell's footsteps walking away. After a moment, he yanked open the door.

"Good afternoon, my name is Russell," Russell repeated, "and I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tribe Fifty-four, Sweat Lodge Twelve. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?"

"Thank you, but I don't need any help." Carl tried to shut the door, but Russell jammed his hiking boot into the doorframe, blocking it.

"Ow!" Russell winced.

With a sigh, Carl opened the door. Clearly, this kid wasn't going to give up. "Proceed."

"Good afternoon," said Russell, starting over.

"But skip to the end!" Carl snapped.

Russell pointed to his sash. Many colorful patches had been sewn onto it. There was only one space left on the whole sash. "See these?" he asked. "They are my Wilderness Explorer badges. You may notice, one is missing. It's my Assisting the Elderly badge. If I get it, I will become a Senior Wilderness Explorer. The wilderness must be explored!" Russell made his hands into a W. He flapped his hands and squawked like a bird. "Caw-caw!" Then Russell's hands became claws as he growled like a bear. "Rarr!"

Carl's hearing aid shrieked in his ear.

"It's going to be great," Russell went on. "There's a big ceremony, and all the dads come, and they pin on our badges."

"So you want to assist an old person?" Carl asked.

"Yep! Then I will be a Senior Wilderness Explorer!" Russell grinned.

Carl looked left, then right. Then he leaned in to whisper, "You ever heard of a snipe?"

"Snipe?" Russell shook his head.

"Bird. Beady eyes. Every night, it sneaks into my yard and gobbles my poor azaleas. I'm elderly and infirm; I can't catch it. If only someone could help me."

"Me!" Russell bounced up and down with excitement. "Me! I'll do it!"

"Oh, I don't know," Carl said doubtfully, "it's awfully crafty. You'd have to clap your hands three times to lure it in."

"I'll find it, Mr. Fredricksen!" Russell promised.

"I think its burrow is two blocks down. If you go past—"

But Russell was already on the case. "Two blocks down! Got it!" He hurried away, clapping and calling, "Sni-i-i-pe. Here, snipey, snipey!"

"Bring it back here when you find it!" Carl shouted.

That should keep him busy for a while, Carl thought. He knew something that Russell didn't: There was no snipe. He'd made it up.

Carl started to close his door, but the beeping sound of a large truck backing up caught his attention. One of the construction workers was directing the truck—and it was headed right toward Carl's mailbox!

Crunch!

"Hey!" Moving faster than he had in years, Carl picked up his cane and hurried toward the mailbox. "Hey, you!" he hollered at the construction worker. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I am so sorry, sir." The worker really did look sorry. He bent over to try to fix the mailbox.

"Don't touch that!" Carl barked, reaching for it.

"No, no, no," the worker said. "Let me take care of that for you."

Carl struggled to keep his grip on the box.The construction worker didn't understand. To him, it was just a mailbox. But to Carl, it was Ellie's mailbox. The one she had painted. The one with their handprints. "Get away from our mailbox!" Carl warned.

"Hey, sir, I—"

"I don't want you to touch it!" Carl cried. He batted at the construction worker with his cane.

"Ow!" The worker fell to the ground, holding his head.

Carl cradled the mailbox in his arms and retreated to the house. His heart was thudding in his chest. He hadn't realized that he was still strong enough to hurt another person. People had gathered around to make sure the construction worker was okay. A few glanced nervously at Carl.

Quickly, Carl went inside the house and shut the front door. He also closed the curtains, but kept one open a little so he could peek out. He saw a police car roll up beside the crowd of people. The real estate boss was there, too, and he was staring right at Carl. Scared, Carl pulled away from the window. He knew he'd made a mistake. A big mistake.

从那以后，卡尔和艾莉就成了最亲密的朋友。在他们19岁那年，两人迈入了婚姻的殿堂。他们一起搬进了艾莉的俱乐部里。两人满心欢喜，快乐地对俱乐部的房子进行修修补补。艾莉修理房顶上的木板，卡尔搭建起新的风向标。艾莉拿出自己珍藏已久的探险书，卡尔为房子涂上亮丽的色彩，使其看起来就和艾莉所描绘的俱乐部一模一样。

一天，卡尔倚靠着信箱，欣喜地看到艾莉把他俩的名字涂写到信箱的一侧。但当他起身时，不由得倒吸一口凉气——他竟然不小心把自己的手印印到了信箱上！艾莉笑了笑，也把自己的手印印了上去。待她把手拿开，两人的手印连在了一起，就像手拉着手一样。

卡尔和艾莉日复一日地对房子进行着改造、翻新工作，一干就是好几个星期。偶尔，他们也会忙里偷闲，休息一下。有时，他们会坐在客厅里并排的舒适扶手椅上。有时，他们会爬上两人最喜爱的小山坡去野餐。卡尔和艾莉喜欢躺在草坪上，望着天空，看着云朵变幻，形状万千，一会儿像海龟，一会儿像大象。

艾莉在当地的动物园里找了份工作，负责照料南美洲馆的动物。卡尔也在动物园工作，不过，他是推着手推车卖气球。有时候，卡尔携带的气球太多，它们的浮力会把车子轻微抬起，脱离地面。

几个月过去了。艾莉和卡尔翻看着艾莉的探险书，梦想着有一天能到天堂瀑布去旅行。艾莉画了一幅美好的画——在特普伊山的平顶上，坐落着他们的房子。他们把这幅画挂在壁炉上方。卡尔在画的旁边挂了一幅南美洲的海报。艾莉又挂上了一块手工编织的小毯子，摆了一件陶器和一只热带鸟的雕像。

卡尔把一架玩具飞船放到壁炉架上，还在桌上放了一只玻璃瓶，这为他们的装饰工作画上了休止符。玻璃瓶上的标签写着四个字：天堂瀑布。一有机会，卡尔和艾莉就把零钱投进瓶子里存起来。

但他们并没有存下多少钱。因为他们总有很多地方需要花钱——为车子换新轮胎，为卡尔摔断的腿打石膏，为房子更换新屋顶……但卡尔和艾莉并不担心。因为他们相信，总有一天他们会到南美洲去。

时间过得飞快，一转眼，几年过去了。

卡尔还在卖气球，艾莉仍在动物园里照料动物。晚上，他们就在客厅里跳舞。只要两人在一起，他们总是很开心。

结婚三十多年后的一天，卡尔意识到他们已经等得太久了。他决定给艾莉一个惊喜。于是，他买了两张飞往南美洲的机票，并把它们塞进了野餐篮里。但是，在两人一起攀登他们最喜爱的那座小山坡时，艾莉摔倒了。

艾莉住进了医院，有段时间她的身体状况看起来还不错，好像很快就能痊愈。但天不如人愿，艾莉最终还是永远地离开了。卡尔带着一大束蓝色气球参加了她的葬礼。

随后卡尔回了家。这是他八岁以来，第一次孤零零的一个人。

一天清晨，闹钟嗡嗡作响，卡尔摸索着自己的眼镜。他坐起身，揉了揉脸。他已不再年轻，变成了一个老人。当他试图伸展身体时，却发现起床这件简单的小事变得不那么容易了。他的骨头发出“嘎吱嘎吱”的响声。他抓起手杖——底部的每个开叉都装有一只网球——然后坐上老年人座椅从楼梯上缓缓滑下来。从二楼到一楼这段距离很短，却花了卡尔很长很长的时间。

吃过早餐，卡尔在房子里闲逛。他掸走了壁炉架上的灰尘，这上面有所有他和艾莉收集的探险物品，每一样都无可替代。卡尔又小心翼翼地调了调热带鸟雕像的位置，旁边正好摆着望远镜和艾莉儿时的照片。然后，他慢慢地走到前门门口，戴上帽子，整了整别在自己翻领上的葡萄苏打汽水瓶盖徽章。做完这些，他停了下来，在镜子前审视了一遍自己，然后打开前门所有的锁，走到了门廊上。

这些年来，他家所在的街区发生了很多变化。事实上，这已经不能再称之为街区了。因为除了卡尔家，这里所有的房子都被拆掉了。建筑工人们正在建造新式高层公寓。

“艾莉，你看看都变成啥样了？”卡尔看着推土机爬过土质的地面，自言自语地说道。虽然卡尔知道艾莉再也听不到他讲话了，但有时他还是喜欢自言自语地和她说话。毕竟，这座房子装满了他们共同的回忆，这里的一切都能勾起卡尔对艾莉的思念。

卡尔的视线落到了信箱上。自从艾莉喷绘之后，这个信箱就没有发生过任何变化。信箱上面仍然保留着他们的名字和手印。信箱的小门上露出了几封信件的边角。

“来信了！”卡尔大声说。他摇摇晃晃地走到信箱旁，从里面取出了一本小册子。封面上和蔼可亲的老人对着卡尔笑着。“橡树荫养老院。哦，我的老兄！”卡尔注意到信箱外面已满是灰尘。他皱了皱眉头，拿起吹叶机把上面的灰尘吹走了。

“嘿！早上好，费迪逊先生！”建筑工人汤姆向他问好，“您需要帮助吗？”

“需要。告诉你的老板，你们这是在摧毁我们的房子！”卡尔咆哮着，瞥了一眼正在一旁打电话的一个商人老板模样的人。“好吧，跟您说句实话，如果能从您这里接手这幢老房子，我的老板会很高兴的，而且他会给出两倍于上次的报价，”汤姆回答道，“您意下如何呢？”

作为回应，卡尔直接把吹叶机对准汤姆吹起来。

“嗯，那我就当您说‘不’了。”汤姆说。

卡尔回答：“我觉得我已经向你们老板明确表示了我的立场。”

“你把西梅汁倒进了他的油箱里。”汤姆说。

卡尔咯咯地笑起来：“哦，这不是很好嘛。”

“这可不是开玩笑，”汤姆皱着眉头说，“他要来收你的房子了。”

卡尔转过身，回到房子前面的台阶上。“告诉你的老板，他可以收走我们的房子，”他转过头对汤姆说，“不过，等到我死的那一天吧！”接着，他“砰”的一声关上了门。

汤姆抬了抬眉毛：“我认为我们还是有希望的。”

回到屋子里，卡尔坐在椅子上，打开了电视机。

“如果现在订购，”屏幕上的人说，“你就会得到相机，得到打印机，还会得到……”

卡尔的眼皮变得沉重起来，他的头也开始一点一点地打着瞌睡。

就在这时，一阵敲门声传来，卡尔起身慢吞吞地走向门口，打开了门。

卡尔看见一个身穿“初级野外探险家”制服的小男孩站在门廊上。他戴着一条肩带，上面挂满了徽章。小男孩翻开了手上的探险家手册，念道：“下午好，我叫小罗，我是探险队第54团第12小队的野外探险成员。先生，您今天需要帮助吗？”

“不需要。”卡尔回答道。

“我可以带你过马路。”小罗建议道。

“不用。”

“我可以带你在院子里遛弯儿。”

“用不着。”

“我可以带你穿过走廊。”

“不用。”

“好吧，可我总得帮你做点什么啊。”小罗坚持说。

“噢，不需要，”卡尔说，“我很好。”话音刚落，他就在小罗面前“砰”地关上了门。

卡尔站在门后，侧着耳朵听外面的动静，却并没听到小罗离开的脚步声。不一会儿，他猛地打开了门。

“下午好，我叫小罗，”他又开始重复刚才的话，“我是探险队第54团第12小队的野外探险成员。先生，您今天需要帮助吗？”

“谢谢你了，但是我真的不需要帮助。”卡尔想把门关上，不料小罗将旅行靴别在门框处，这样，卡尔就关不上门了。

“啊哟！”小罗痛得龇牙咧嘴。

卡尔叹了口气，打开了门。显然，这个孩子不会轻易放弃。“继续。”

“下午好，”小罗又开始了。

“直接跳到最后！”卡尔明显不耐烦了。

小罗指着自己的肩带。上面挂满了五颜六色的徽章，只剩下一个小小的空隙。“看到了吗？”小罗问道，“这些都是我的野外探险家徽章。你也许注意到这里少了一枚徽章。我还缺一枚助老徽章。如果有了这枚助老徽章，我就可以成为高级野外探险家了，就可以到野外去探险了！”说完，小罗把双手摆成字母W的形状，像鸟儿一样扇动着双手，同时嘴里发出“嘎嘎”的鸟叫声。然后，小罗的十指弯曲成熊爪的形状，嘴里也跟着发出“喔—呜”的熊叫声。

卡尔的助听器里传来了尖锐刺耳的噪声。

“那简直太棒了，”小罗继续说道，“我们还会有一个盛大的仪式，到时候，所有的爸爸都会参加，亲手给自己的孩子带上徽章。”

“所以，你想帮助一个老人？”卡尔问。

“是啊！那样我就能成为一名高级野外探险家了！”小罗说着，美滋滋地笑起来。

卡尔先向左看看，再向右瞅瞅，然后俯下身低声对小罗说，“你听说过鹬吗？”

“鹬？”小罗摇了摇头。

“一种鸟。眼睛又小又圆。它每天晚上都溜进院子偷吃我的杜鹃花。我老了，身体不好，抓不住它。如果有人能帮我就最好不过了。”

“我来！”小罗兴奋地跳了起来。“我来！我可以帮你的！”

“哦，帮不帮得上，这可说不准，”卡尔怀疑地说，“它相当狡猾。你得拍掌三下，才能把它引诱出来。”

“我一定会找到它的，费迪逊先生！”小罗向卡尔保证道。

卡尔对小罗说：“我觉得它的洞穴就在两个街区之外。如果你经过——”

卡尔话没说完，小罗已经进入状态了。“两个街区！知道了！”他急忙动身，边拍手边喊道，“鹬——鹬，这里，鹬，鹬！”

“找到了就把它带给我！”卡尔冲着小罗喊道。

这应该够他忙活一阵子了，卡尔想。他很清楚，根本就没有鹬这种鸟，这完全是卡尔编出来支走小罗的理由，但小罗并不知道。

卡尔正要关门，一辆大卡车倒车的嘟嘟声引起了他的注意。一名建筑工人正在指挥卡车倒车，而这辆卡车正向着卡尔家信箱的方向开过来！

嘎吱嘎吱！

“嘿！”卡尔好久没有这么麻利了，他迅速拿起手杖，匆匆忙忙地向信箱的方向走去。“嘿，说你呢！”他冲着建筑工人大声喊道，“看看你都做了些什么？”

“先生，我很抱歉。”这名工人满脸歉意。他弯下腰试图修理信箱。

“别碰它！”卡尔一把抱住信箱咆哮道。

“不，不，不，”工人说，“我来帮你。”

卡尔牢牢地抓住信箱。建筑工人一脸疑惑。因为在他看来，这只是一个很普通的信箱。但对卡尔而言，这是艾莉的信箱，是艾莉喷绘的那个信箱，是印有两人手印的信箱。“别碰我们的信箱！”卡尔警告工人。

“嘿，先生，我——”

“不准碰它！”卡尔声嘶力竭地喊道。他举起了手杖就往建筑工人头上敲去。

“啊哟！”工人手抱着头，倒在了地上。

卡尔牢牢地把信箱抱在怀里，回到自己房子的地方，心“怦怦”地跳得厉害。他万万没想到，自己竟有这么大的力气，能打伤别人。周围的人纷纷围了上来，查看建筑工人的伤势如何。其中有几个人紧张地瞄了卡尔一眼。

卡尔赶紧回到屋子里，关上前门。他把窗帘也拉了下来，不过并没有拉严，而是留了一条缝。这样，他就可以偷偷地观察外面的情况了。他看到一辆警车穿过人群，疾速赶来。房地产老板也站在那里，一直盯着卡尔的方向。惊吓之下，卡尔逃离了窗户附近。他知道自己犯错了，犯了一个大错。