朋友就该这么做（2）（2/2）
《美丽英文》作者：方雪梅 2017-04-14 12:47
y and left a batch on Jack’s desk. Another day I left a note. “Hope your day is going great,” it read.
Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Co-workers cornered me in the break room.
“Guess you got to Jack,” they said. “You must have told him off4 good.” I shook my head. “Jack and I are becoming friends,” I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him. After all, that’s what friends do.
One year after our “talk,” I discovered I had breast cancer. I was 32, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized5 to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival. After surgery, I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one knew what to say. Many said the wrong things. Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung6 to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay, the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside lay several bulbs.
“Tulips,” he said.
I smiled, not understanding.
He cleared his throat, “If you plant them when you get home, they’ll come up next spring.” He shuffled his feet. “I just wanted you to know that I think you’ll be there to see them when they come up.”
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly7 replied,“You’re welcome. You can’t see it now, but next spring you’ll see the colors I picked out for you.” He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this September the doctor will declare me cured. I’ve seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all, that’s what friends do.
Over the next few weeks, Jack reappeared. He was reserved, but there were no other episodes. Co-workers cornered me in the break room.
“Guess you got to Jack,” they said. “You must have told him off4 good.” I shook my head. “Jack and I are becoming friends,” I said in faith. I refused to talk about him. Every time I saw Jack in the hall, I smiled at him. After all, that’s what friends do.
One year after our “talk,” I discovered I had breast cancer. I was 32, the mother of three beautiful young children, and scared. The cancer had metastasized5 to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival. After surgery, I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to find the right words to say. No one knew what to say. Many said the wrong things. Others wept, and I tried to encourage them. I clung6 to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay, the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold. I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and, without a word, placed a bundle beside me. Inside lay several bulbs.
“Tulips,” he said.
I smiled, not understanding.
He cleared his throat, “If you plant them when you get home, they’ll come up next spring.” He shuffled his feet. “I just wanted you to know that I think you’ll be there to see them when they come up.”
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly7 replied,“You’re welcome. You can’t see it now, but next spring you’ll see the colors I picked out for you.” He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now. In fact, this September the doctor will declare me cured. I’ve seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word, a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all, that’s what friends do.