第一章 有一种爱叫放手(31)
《世界上最温情的故事》作者:吴文智 2017-04-14 12:57
第一章 有一种爱叫放手(31)
My mother didn’t. The day before the prom, I found that dress—in the right size—draped majestically over the living-room sofa. It wasn’t just delivered, still in the box. It was presented to me—beautifully, artistically lovingly. I didn’t care if I had a new dress or not. But my mother did.
She wanted her children to feel loved and lovable, creative and imaginative, imbued with a sense that there was magic in the world and beauty even in the face of adversity. In truth, my mother wanted her children to see themselves much like the gardenia—lovely, strong and perfect—with an aura of magic and perhaps a bit of mystery.
My mother died ten days after I married. I was 22 years old. That was the year the gardenias stopped coming.
从我12岁那年起,每年都有人在我生日那天把一枝洁白的栀子花送到家里(马里兰州贝塞斯达镇上),没有卡片,也没有字条。我多次打电话到花店询问,但总问不出个所以然来——这些花都是用现金支付的。后来,我就不再追查送花人,只是尽情享受那枝神秘的、用粉红绢纸包扎的雪白花朵的瑰丽和浓郁芳香。
我还是不停地猜测这位匿名送花者。有时,我最喜欢做的事就是揣测这个人,或许他是一个无比优秀的人,但过于腼腆或者性格古怪,而不愿透露身份。
母亲也和我一起猜测,很多猜想还源于她的点拨。她会问我,是不是给谁做了件好事,所以人家用这种方式来答谢。或许是邻居吧,我曾帮她卸下满满一车杂货。也有可能是马路对面的那位老先生,寒冬时,我帮他取过邮件,这样他就不必冒着滑倒的危险去取了。然而,正值花季的我,宁愿相信这个人是我喜欢的男孩,或是暗恋我而我浑然不知的某个男生。
17岁那年,一个男生深深地伤害了我。他最后一次打电话给我的那晚,我失声痛哭,后来,就不知不觉地睡着了。第二天早上醒来时,我看见镜子上有一行潦草的字,是用红色唇膏写的——“切记:半仙离去,真神到来”。我一直没擦去这些字。爱默生的这句话,我想了很久,最后终于想通了。于是,在我去拿玻璃清洁剂时,母亲知道一切又恢复正常了。
记忆中,我从未冲母亲发过脾气,然后甩门而去,还吼道:“你根本不理解!”因为母亲太了解我了。
在我高中毕业的前一个月,父亲因心脏病离开
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My mother didn’t. The day before the prom, I found that dress—in the right size—draped majestically over the living-room sofa. It wasn’t just delivered, still in the box. It was presented to me—beautifully, artistically lovingly. I didn’t care if I had a new dress or not. But my mother did.
She wanted her children to feel loved and lovable, creative and imaginative, imbued with a sense that there was magic in the world and beauty even in the face of adversity. In truth, my mother wanted her children to see themselves much like the gardenia—lovely, strong and perfect—with an aura of magic and perhaps a bit of mystery.
My mother died ten days after I married. I was 22 years old. That was the year the gardenias stopped coming.
从我12岁那年起,每年都有人在我生日那天把一枝洁白的栀子花送到家里(马里兰州贝塞斯达镇上),没有卡片,也没有字条。我多次打电话到花店询问,但总问不出个所以然来——这些花都是用现金支付的。后来,我就不再追查送花人,只是尽情享受那枝神秘的、用粉红绢纸包扎的雪白花朵的瑰丽和浓郁芳香。
我还是不停地猜测这位匿名送花者。有时,我最喜欢做的事就是揣测这个人,或许他是一个无比优秀的人,但过于腼腆或者性格古怪,而不愿透露身份。
母亲也和我一起猜测,很多猜想还源于她的点拨。她会问我,是不是给谁做了件好事,所以人家用这种方式来答谢。或许是邻居吧,我曾帮她卸下满满一车杂货。也有可能是马路对面的那位老先生,寒冬时,我帮他取过邮件,这样他就不必冒着滑倒的危险去取了。然而,正值花季的我,宁愿相信这个人是我喜欢的男孩,或是暗恋我而我浑然不知的某个男生。
17岁那年,一个男生深深地伤害了我。他最后一次打电话给我的那晚,我失声痛哭,后来,就不知不觉地睡着了。第二天早上醒来时,我看见镜子上有一行潦草的字,是用红色唇膏写的——“切记:半仙离去,真神到来”。我一直没擦去这些字。爱默生的这句话,我想了很久,最后终于想通了。于是,在我去拿玻璃清洁剂时,母亲知道一切又恢复正常了。
记忆中,我从未冲母亲发过脾气,然后甩门而去,还吼道:“你根本不理解!”因为母亲太了解我了。
在我高中毕业的前一个月,父亲因心脏病离开