Every year on my birthday, from the time I turned 12, a white gardenia was delivered to my house in Bethesda, Md. No card or not

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问题   Every year on my birthday, from the time I turned 12, a white gardenia was delivered to my house in Bethesda, Md. No card or note came with it. Calls to the florist were always in vain--it was a cash purchase. After a while I stopped trying to discover the sender’s identity and just delighted in the beauty and heady perfume of that one magical, perfect white flower nestled in soft pink tissue paper.
  But I never stopped imagining who the anonymous giver might be. Some of my happiest moments were spent daydreaming about someone wonderful and exciting but too shy or eccentric to make known his or her identity.
  My mother contributed to these imaginings. She’d ask me if there was someone for whom I had done a special kindness who might be showing appreciation. Perhaps the neighbour I’d help when she was unloading a car full of groceries. Or maybe it was the old man across the street whose mail I retrieved? during the winter so he wouldn’t have to venture down his icy steps. As a teenager, though, I had more fun speculating that it might be a boy I had a crush on or one who had noticed me even though I didn’t know him.

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答案不附名片,不附便条。多次打电话询问花店,均无所获,均因现金支付。此后,我不再去查问送花的人是谁了,只是尽情享受那支襄在粉红色绢纸中的富有魁力的纯白花朵的瑰丽和浓郁芳香所带给我的欢悦。 但是,我对谁是匿名送花人的猜测从未停止过。我最快乐的某些时刻,便是充分发挥自己的想象力,揣测大概是那么一个人,奇妙而激动人心,却又过于腼腆或怪癖而隐姓埋名。 冒出这许多通想,有我母亲的一份功劳。她令问我是否替谁做了件特殊的好事以至人家表示谢意啦。也许是邻居吧,我帮她一块卸过满满一车的杂货。抑或走马路对面的那个老头,寒冬里我帮他取回邮件,免除了他不得不走滑溜溜的冰路的危险。

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