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I was nine when my father first sent me flowers.
我九岁那年，父亲第一次送花给我。
I had been taking tap-dancing lessons for six months, and the school was giving its yearly recital.
当时，我加入学校踢踏舞班才六个月，正逢学校举办一年一度的演出。
As an excited member of the beginners’ chorus line, I was aware of my lowly status.
我只能加入新学员合唱队，却依然兴致勃勃，不过我清楚自己只是个不起眼的小角色。
So it was a surprise to have my name called out at the end of the show along with the lead dancers and to find my arms full of long-stemmed red roses.
令人惊喜的是，演出一结束，我竟被叫到前台，双手捧着一束枝繁叶茂的红玫瑰与主舞的演员站在一起。
I can still feel myself standing on that stage, blushing furiously and gazing over the footlights to see my father’s grin as he applauded loudly.
我至今还感到自己像是站在舞台上，双颊绯红，我越过绚丽的脚灯光线向下张望，看见父亲的笑脸。
Those roses were the first in a series of large bouquets that accompanied all the milestones in my life.
他一面使劲地鼓掌，一面快活地笑着。 这束鲜花是第一束，往后，每逢我人生的一个里程碑，父亲都要送我一大束鲜花。
They brought a sense of embarrassment.
可我的心情总是有些矛盾。
I enjoyed them, but was flustered by the extravagance.
既高兴，又有些尴尬。我喜爱鲜花，可又为这种奢侈而不安。
Not my father.
父亲却从不会觉得不安。
He did everything in a big way.
他做什么事都特别大方。
If you sent him to the bakery for a cake, he came back with three.
如果你让他去面包房买一块蛋糕，他一定会买回来三块。
Once, when Mother told him I needed a new party dress, he brought home a dozen.
一次，母亲对他说我需要一件新的派对礼服，他竟买回来一打。
His behavior often left us without funds for other more important things.
他的做法总是让我们没有钱再去添置其他更需要的东西。
After the dress incident, there was no money for the winter coat I really needed or the new ice skates I wanted.
那次礼服事件后，家里就再也没钱去买我真正急需的冬大衣，或者我一直向往的新溜冰鞋。
Sometimes I would be angry with him, but not for long.
有时我会为这些事跟父亲赌气，但时间都不会长。
Inevitably he would buy me something to make up with me.
他照例会买些礼物与我和好。
The gift was so apparently an offering of love he could not verbalize that I would throw my arms around him and kiss him—an act that undoubtedly perpetuated his behavior.
这些礼物如此真切地传达着他不善用言辞表达的爱，这时，我便会搂住他，亲吻他，这亲昵的行为，无疑会使他再度大方。
Then came my 16th birthday.
之后迎来了我16岁生日。
It was not a happy occasion.
可这并不是个快乐的时刻。
I was fat and had no boyfriend.
我长得很胖，还没有男朋友。
And my well-meaning parents furthered my misery by giving me a party.
好心的父母为我准备了生日晚会，可这更让我觉得痛苦。
As I entered the dining room, there on the table next to my cake was a huge bouquet of flowers, bigger than any before.
我走进餐厅，看见餐桌上生日蛋糕旁边，摆着很大一束鲜花，比以往的任何一束都要大。
I wanted to hide.
我真想躲起来。
Now everyone would think my father had sent flowers because I had no boyfriend to do it.
现在谁都会以为我没有男朋友送花，只好由父亲来送了。
Sweet 16, and I felt like crying.
16岁该是最美好的，而我却只想哭。
I probably would have, but my best friend, Phyllis, whispered, “Boy, you’re lucky to have a father like that.”
或许当时我的确哭了，但我最好的朋友，菲利斯，在我耳边小声说：“嘿，孩子，你有这样的父亲可真幸运。”
As the years passed, other occasion—birthdays, recitals, awards, graduations were marked with Dad’s flowers.
随着光阴的流逝，许多特别的日子——生日、演出、获奖、毕业——都会伴有父亲的鲜花。
My emotions continued to seesaw between pleasure and embarrassment.”
我的心情也依然在快乐与尴尬之间徘徊不定。
When I graduated from college, though, my days of ambivalence were over.
可我从大学毕业时，那种矛盾的心情消失了。
I was embarking on a new career and was engaged to be married.
我开始了新的事业，也订了婚。
Dad’s flowers symbolized his pride, and my triumph.
父亲的鲜花代表了他的骄傲和我的胜利。
They evoked only great pleasure.
它们带来的只有极大的喜悦。
Now there were bright-orange mums for Thanksgiving and a huge pink poinsettia at Christmas.
后来，每逢感恩节，我们都会收到父亲的一捧黄灿灿的菊花；圣诞节会有一大束粉红的一品红。
White lilies at Easter, and velvety red roses for birthdays.
复活节是洁白的百合花；生日里会有天鹅绒般的红玫瑰。
Seasonal flowers in mixed bouquets celebrated the births of my children and the move to our first house.
孩子出世或逢乔迁之喜，父亲会送来那个季节里盛开的许多种鲜花混合扎成的花束。
As my fortunes grew, my father’s waned, but his gifts of flowers continued until he died of a heart attack a few months before his 70th birthday.
随着我不断功成名就，父亲日渐衰老，但他依然坚持给我送花，直到他70岁生日的前几个月，因心脏病发作而猝然逝去。
Without embarrassment, I covered his coffin with the largest, reddest roses I could find.
我在他的棺木上铺满了我所能寻得的最大的红玫瑰，而且，没有一丝窘迫。
Often in the dozen years since, I felt an urge to go out and buy a big bouquet to fill the living room, but I never did.
在以后的十几年里，我常常有一股冲动，想去买一大束鲜花装点起居室，可我始终没去。
I knew it would not be the same.
我知道，即便买来，花已不是从前的花了。
Then one birthday, the doorbell rang.
后来我生日的一天，我听见门铃响了。
I was feeling blue because I was alone.
那天，我本来很沮丧，因为只有我待在家中。
My husband was playing golf, and my two daughters were away.
丈夫打高尔夫球去了，两个女儿出远门了。
My 13-year-old son, Matt, had run out earlier with a “see you later”, never mentioning my birthday.
13岁的儿子马特也走得格外早，只道了声“再见”，只字未提我的生日。
So I was surprised to see his large frame at the door.
所以我开门看见马特胖胖的身体站在门边时，有几分惊讶。
“Forgot my key.” he said, shrugging. “Forgot your birthday too. Well, I hope you like flowers, Mum.”
“忘带钥匙了，”他耸耸肩，说道，“也忘了今天是你生日。嗯，我希望你喜欢这些鲜花，妈妈。”
He pulled a bunch of daisies from behind his back.
说着，他从身后抽出一束雏菊。
“Oh, Matt,” I cried, hugging him hard, “I love flowers!”
“哦，马特，”我大叫一声，紧紧搂住他，“我爱鲜花！”
