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第22章 爱之花悄然绽放Love in Bloom（第2页）

我的经济状况不断好转，父亲却日益衰老，可鲜花却一直持续到他七十岁生日的前几个月，他因心脏病去世了。

我没有丝毫困窘，尽力找来最大最红的玫瑰将他的灵柩盖满。

此后的十多年，我常会有种冲动，想买一大束花，把客厅装饰起来。

可我并没那样做，我知道这是不一样的。

后来，一次我过生日，门铃响了。

我正因孤独而沮丧：丈夫在打高尔夫；两个女儿也不在家；十三岁的儿子马特说了一声“待会儿见”

就跑出去了，根本没提到我的生日。

所以看到他高大的身影出现在门口时，我很吃惊。

“我忘带钥匙了，”

他耸了耸肩说，“也忘了今天是您的生日。

妈妈，我希望您会喜欢这些花。”

说着，他从背后拿出一束雏菊。

“噢，马特，”

我大声叫了出来，把他紧紧地抱在怀里，“我非常喜欢这些花！”

Iwashersentmeflowers.Ihadbeentakingtap-danglessonsforsixmonths，andtheschoolwasgivingitsyearlyrecital.Asaedmemberofthebeginners’e，Iwasawareofmylo>

Soitrisetohavemytheendoftheshowalongwiththeleaddaofindmyarmsfulloflongstemmedredroses.Istillfeelmyselfstandingonthatcasestage，blushingfuriouslyandgazihefootlightstoseemyfather’sgrinasheapplaudedloudly.

Thoseroseswerethefirstinaseriesebouquetsthatapahemilestonesiheybroughtasenseofambivalengcaughtbetweenpleasureandembarrassmehem，butflusteredbytheextravagance.

Notmyfather.Hedideverythinginabigway.Ifyousenthimtothebakeryforacake，hecamebackwiththree.OhertoldhimIneededaydress，hebroughthomeadozen.

HisbehavioroftehoutfundsforothermoreimportantthihedressiherewashewiIreallyheesI>

&imesIwouldbeangrywithhim，butn.Iablyhewouldbuymesomethihme.ThegiftarentlyanofloveheotverbalizethatIwouldthrowmyarmsaroundhimandkisshim—anadoubtedlyperpetuatedhisbehavior.

Thehbirthday.Ityo.Iwasfatandhadnoboyfriend.Andmyarentsfurtheredmymiserybygiviy.AsIehediningroom，thereoableomycakewasahugebouqueterthananybefore.

Iwaohide.NoweveryohinkmyfatherhadsentflowersbecauseIhadodoit.Sweet16，butIfeltlikeg.Iprobablywouldhave，butmybestfriend，Phyllis，whispered，“Boy，you’reluckytohaveafatherlikethat.”

Astheyearspassed，otheroslikebirthdays，recitals，awards，graduationsweremarkedwithDad’sflowers.Myemotionsuedtoseesawbetweenpleasureandembarrassment.

WhenIgraduatedfromcollege，though，mydaysofambivalencewereover.Iwasembarkingonanewdwaseobemarried.Dad’sflowerssymbolizedhispride，andmytriumph.Theyevokedopleasure.

NowtherewerebrightemumsfivingandahugepiChristmas，whiteliliesatEaster，ayredrosesforbirthdays.Seasonalflowersiscelebratedthemovetoourfirsthouse.

Asmyfrew，myfather’swahisgiftsofflowersueduntilhediedofaheartattackafewmonthsbeforehis70thbirthday.Withoutembarrassment，Icoveredhiswiththelargest，reddestrosesId.

&hedozenyearssiaogooutandbuyabigbouquettofillthelivingroom，butIneverdid.Ikwouldhesame.

Thehday，thed.IwasfeelingbluebecauseIwasalone.Myhusbandlayinggolf，andmytwodaughterswereaway.My13-yearoldson，Matt，hadrunoutearlierwitha“seeyoulater”

，ioningmybirthday.SoIrisedtoseehislargeframeinthedoor.

“Fotmykey，”

hesaid，shrugging.“Fotyourbirthdaytoo.Well，Ihopeyoulikeflowers，Mom，”

hepulledabunchofdaisiesfrombehindhisback.

“Oh，Matt，”

Icried，hugginghimhard，“Iloveflowers！”