从我满12岁时起,每年我生日那天,花店准会送一朵白栀子花到我家。只有花,没有附卡片或字条。打电话到花店去查问总是徒劳——花是用现款买的。后来,我不再费神去查问送花人是谁了,只是陶醉于那朵充满魅力、完美无瑕、依偎在柔软粉红色棉纸上的白花的美,以及沁人心脾的芳香。但我仍然时常想象那位隐名送花可能是谁,从未中辍过。我有一些极快活时刻就是在遐想中度过的:我想象送花者是个奇妙而讨人喜欢的人,但是很害羞,或者脾气有点怪,不愿意暴露自己的身分。我母亲也帮着我想象。她问我,会不会是有个人曾经受我恩惠而想表示感谢。我曾经帮过一位邻居把满车的食物和杂货卸下,或许就是她。也可能是对街那位老先生,冬天里我常常代他去取信箱里的邮件,免得他要冒滑倒之险走下结冰的台阶。不过当时十多岁的我觉得另一种揣测更 Since I was 12 years old, every year on my birthday, the florist will send a white gardenia flower to my house. Only flowers, no cards or notes. It is always futile to call a flower shop to check - flowers are bought in cash. Later, I no longer bothered to know who the florist was, just intoxicated with the beautiful, flawless beauty of white flowers nestled in soft pink tissue and the refreshing aroma. But I still often imagine who the hidden donor may be, never stopped. I have some very happy moments I spent in reverie: I imagine the florist is a wonderful and lovable person, but very shy, or a bit strange temper, do not want to reveal their identity. My mother also helped me to imagine. She asked me if I would like to express my gratitude to someone who had favored me. I used to help a neighbor to get rid of the car full of food and groceries, perhaps she is. It may also be the old gentleman on the street, and in the winter I often take mail on his behalf for him, lest he take the risk of slipping to the icy level. However, I was in my teens at the time thinking of another speculation