During my junior year in high school， Mr. Reynolds， my English teacher， handed each student a list of thoughts or statements written by other students， then gave us a creative① writing assignment based on one of those thoughts. At 17， I was beginning to wonder② about many things， so I chose the statement， “I wonder why things are the way they are？” That night， I wrote down in the form of a story all the questions that puzzled③ me about life. I realized that many of them were hard to answer， and perhaps others could not be answered at all. When I turned in my paper， I was afraid that I might fail the assignment because I had not answered the question， “I wonder why things are the way they are？” I had no answers. I had only written questions. The next day Mr. Reynolds called me to the front of the class and asked me to read my story for the other students. He handed me my paper and sat down in the back of the room. The class became quiet as I began to read my story： Mommie， Daddy...Why？
Mommie， why are the roses red？ Mommie， why is the grass green and the sky blue？ Why does a spider④ have a web and not a house？ Daddy， why can’t I play in your toolbox？ Teacher， why do I have to read？ Mother， why can’t I wear lipstick to the dance？ Daddy， why can’t I stay out until 12：00？ The other kids are. Mother， why do you hate me？ Daddy， why don’t the boys like me？ Why do I have to be so skinny？ Why do I have braces and wear glasses？ Why do I have to be 16？ Mom， why do I have to graduate？ Dad， why do I have to grow up？ Mom， Dad， why do I have to leave？ Mom， why don’t you write more often？ Dad， why do I miss my old friends？ Dad， why do you love me so much？ Dad， why do you spoil me？ Your little girl is growing up. Mom， why don’t you visit？ Mom， why is it hard to make new friends？ Dad， why do I miss being at home？ Dad， why does my heart skip⑤ a beat when he looks in my eyes？ Mom， why do my legs tremble⑥ when I hear his voice？ Mother， why is being “in love” the greatest feeling in the world？ Daddy， why don’t you like to be called “Gramppy”？ Mother， why do my baby’s tiny fingers cling so tightly to mine？ Mother， why do they have to grow up？ Daddy， why do they have to leave？ Why do I have to be called “Grammie”？ Mommie， Daddy， why did you have to leave me？ I need you. Why did my youth slip past me？ Why does my face show every smile that I have ever given to a friend or a stranger？ Why does my hair glisten a shiny silver？ Why do my hands quiver when I bend to pick a flower？ Why， God， are the roses red？
At the conclusion⑦ of my story， my eyes locked with Mr. Reynolds’s eyes， and I saw a tear slowly sliding down his cheek. It was then that I realized that life is not always based on the answers we receive， but also on the questions that we ask.
① creativeadj. 创造的，创造性的
② wonderv. 纳闷，想知道
③ puzzlev. 使迷惑，困惑
④ spidern. 蜘蛛
⑤ skipv. 跳跃，蹦跳
⑥ tremblev. 发抖，震颤
⑦ conclusionn. 终结，结束，结尾
我想知道为什么
上初中时，英文老师雷诺兹先生给每位同学发了一张纸条。纸条上列出其他同学写的各种想法和陈述。然后，他要我们据此写一篇创造性的作文。 17岁的我对很多事情都非常疑惑不解。所以我选择了 “我不明白为什么事物都是现在这个样子？”作为题目。那天晚上，我以故事的形式写下了我对生活的所有困惑。我知道很多问题很难回答，或许有些问题根本找不到答案。 交上作文后，我非常担心作业过不了关。因为我根本没有回答 “我不明白为什么事物都是现在这个样子”这个问题，我找不着答案，只写下了问题。 第二天，雷诺兹先生让我到讲台上把我的作文念给全班同学听。他把我的文章递给我，坐到了教室的后面。教室非常安静。我开始朗读自己编写的故事：《妈妈，爸爸……为什么？》
妈妈，为什么玫瑰是红的？ 妈妈，为什么草是青的，天是蓝的？ 为什么蜘蛛织网不造房？ 爸爸，为什么我不能在你的工具箱里玩耍？ 老师，为什么我一定要读书？ 妈妈，为什么我不能抹上口红参加舞会？ 爸爸，为什么我不能在外面玩到中午12点？ 别的小孩却可以。 妈妈，你为什么讨厌我？ 爸爸，为什么男生不喜欢我？ 为什么我必须苗条如柴？ 为什么我一定要系上背带，戴上眼镜？ 我为什么必须得过16岁？ 妈，为什么我必须毕业？ 爸，为什么我得长大？ 妈，爸，为什么我必须离开你们？ 妈，为什么您不给我多写几封信？ 爸，为什么我思念老朋友？ 爸，为什么您这么爱我？ 爸，为什么您这么宠我？ 您的女儿已经长大。 妈，为什么您不常来看看？ 妈，为什么结交新朋友这么困难？ 爸，为什么我怀念在家的日子？ 爸，为什么每次他与我对视时我就心跳加快？ 妈，为什么一听见他的声音我就双腿打颤？ 妈，为什么坠入爱河是世界上最美妙的感觉？ 爸爸，为什么不喜欢有人叫您“外公”？ 妈妈，为什么我的小宝贝要紧抓着我的手？ 妈妈，为什么他们一定要长大？ 爸爸，为什么他们必须离开我们？ 为什么必须得有人叫我 “奶奶”？ 妈妈，爸爸，为什么你们要离我而去？我需要你们！ 为什么我的青春已悄悄溜走？ 为什么我会笑对朋友，也会笑对陌生人？ 为什么我满头银发？ 为什么我弯腰摘花时会双手抖动？ 上帝啊，为什么玫瑰是红的？
读完故事，我双眼紧盯着雷诺兹先生，雷诺兹先生也正凝视着我。我看到一颗泪珠正缓缓地从他的面颊上滚下来。就在那时，我豁然意识到，生活的根基不仅包括我们得到的所有答案，而且还包括我们提出的所有问题。
