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 creative writing assignment based on one of those thoughts.
At 17, I was beginning to wonder 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 puzzled 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 spider 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 skip a beat when he looks in my eyes?
Mom, why do my legs tremble 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 conclusion of my story, my eyes locked with Mr. Reynold 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.
翻譯：
上初中時，英文老師雷諾茲先生給每位同學發了一張紙條。紙條上列出其他同學寫的各種想法和陳述。然后，他要我們據此寫一篇創造性的作文。
17歲的我對很多事情都非常疑惑不解。所以我選擇了”我不明白為什么事物都是現在這個樣子？” 作為題目。那天晚上，我以故事的形式寫下了我對生活的所有困惑。我知道很多問題很難回答，或許有些問題根本找不到答案。
交上作文后，我非常擔心作業過不了關。因為我根本沒有回答 “我不明白為什么事物都是現在這個樣子”這個問題，我找不著答案，只寫下了問題。
第二天，雷諾茲先生讓我到講臺上把我的作文念給全班同學聽。他把我的文章遞給我，坐到了教室的后面。教室非常安靜。我開始朗讀自己編寫的故事。
《媽媽，爸爸……為什么？》
媽媽，為什么玫瑰是紅的?
媽媽，為什么草是青的，天是藍的?
為什么蜘蛛織網不造房?
爸爸，為什么我不能在你的工具箱里玩耍?
老師，為什么我一定要讀書?
媽媽，為什么我不能抹上口紅參加舞會?
爸爸，為什么我不能在外面玩到中午12點? 別的小孩卻可以。
媽媽，你為什么討厭我?
爸爸，為什么男生不喜歡我?
為什么我必須苗條如柴?
為什么我一定要系上背帶，戴上眼鏡?
我為什么必須得過16歲?
媽，為什么我必須畢業?
爸，為什么我得長大?
媽，爸，為什么我必須離開你們?
媽，為什么您不給我多寫幾封信?
爸，為什么我思念老朋友?
爸，為什么您這么愛我?
爸，為什么您這么寵我?
您的女兒已經長大。
媽，為什么您不常來看看?
媽，為什么結交新朋友這么困難?
爸，為什么我懷念在家的日子?
爸，為什么每次他與我對視時我就心跳加快?
媽，為什么一聽見他的聲音我就雙腿打顫?
媽，為什么墜入愛河是世界上最美妙的感覺?
爸爸，為什么不喜歡有人叫您”外公”?
媽媽，為什么我的小寶貝要緊抓著我的手?
媽媽，為什么他們一定要長大?
爸爸，為什么他們必須離開我們?
為什么必須得有人叫我 “奶奶”?
媽媽，爸爸，為什么你們要離我而去?我需要你們!
為什么我的青春已悄悄溜走?
為什么我會笑對朋友，也會笑對陌生人?
為什么我滿頭銀發?
為什么我彎腰摘花時會雙手抖動?
上帝啊，為什么玫瑰是紅的?
讀完故事，我雙眼緊盯著雷諾茲先生，雷諾茲先生也正凝視著我。我看到一顆淚珠正緩緩地從他的面頰上滾下來。就在那時，我豁然意識到，生活的根基不僅包括我們得到的所有答案，而且還包括我們提出的所有問題。
