We were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch.
One of the passengers was a small grey man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.
Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.
The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice: "And a very good morning to you all!" Some of us looked up, amazed, and murmured "Good morning," in reply.
The following weeks we were more alert. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.
One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked: "Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?" We never got to know if his name really was "Charlie", but he nodded shyly and said yes.
The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.
Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly: "Here." Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.
The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn’t waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn’t there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or -- hopefully -- on holiday somewhere.
When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.
Yes, the staff said, they knew who we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn’t been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.
The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more grey, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrinked again. Inside the bus was a silence akin to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands
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33年的前的那个夏季，每天我们混迹在各色人中等待公车的到来。一大清早我们就从郊区开始坐车，我们把衣领高竖到耳朵上，懒洋洋的坐在那，一群沉闷的，没有言语的人。
其中的一个乘客是个无名小卒，他每天乘车前往老年人中心。他行走时驼着背，表情悲伤。当他艰难地上了公车，独自做到驾驶员身后的座位上时，很少有人过多的注意到他。
然而七月的一个早晨，他向驾驶员问好并且在他坐下来之前微笑着环视了一下公车里的乘客。司机礼貌的点点头，我们依然沉默的坐着，没有反应。
第二天，那个老人精力充沛的上了公车，微笑着大声的说：“各位早上好啊!”一些人慢慢的抬起头觉得很奇怪，有些人嘀咕着小声回应着：“早上好!”
接下来的几周我们更震惊了。我们的朋友现在穿着体面的一个旧外套和一个过时的宽领带。稀疏的头发也是精心梳理的。他每天向我们问好，我们也逐渐的互相点头致意，相互交谈起来了。
一天早晨他手里拿着一束野花。因为炎热，他们都抓着吊环站着。司机转过头来笑着问道：“查理，你有女朋友了吗?”我们从来也不知道他的真名是不是叫查理，但是他害羞的点点头说：“是的”
其他的乘客兴奋的吹着口哨，拍打着他。查理鞠躬以示感谢，他挥舞着鲜花坐到了他的位子上。
从那天早晨以后，查理总是带着一束花。常乘这趟车的一些人也开始带些花给老人，让他的花束更艳丽，他们绅士的推着老人，羞赧的说：“给你”。每个人都面带笑容。人们开始拿这事开玩笑，互相唠着并分享自己的报纸。
夏去秋来，当有一天清晨查理没有在他通常的站点等候。当第二天和以后的日子里查理都没有出现的时候，我们禁不住去想：他是不是病了或者我们更希望他在某个地方度假呢。
当我们来到老年人中心附近的时候，一个乘客让司机停下来等一下。当她走向门口的时候我们都摒住了呼吸。
老年中心的职员告诉我们说他知道我们说的人是谁。那个老绅士是个好人，但那周他一直没有来过。他的一个很亲密的朋友在周末的时候去世了。他们期待着他周一会来。接下来的路上我们是如此的沉静。
下周一的时候，查理等候在站点上，背看上去更加的驼了，脸色灰暗，也没有戴领带。他看上去一下子又缩小回去了。公车上一下子跟教堂似的静悄悄的。我们尽管没有人谈论他，那个夏天他给我们的记忆却挥之不去。我们手拿鲜花，眼含泪水坐在公车上。
