Yours,

Li Hua

3 . The rangoli (印度传统地画艺术) was a giant good-luck charm. Grandma used to make one for the start of the new year. First, she would draw on the floor with chalk. Then, she would fill the drawing with uncooked _________ rice.

This year, Manju was old enough to help. He _________ paper into a cone (圆锥体) and filled it with rice. Side by side, he placed rice across the drawing together with Grandma. Sometimes his rice skittered (轻快地跑跳) outside the drawing; sometimes he used the   _________ color. And sometimes he rubbed away the _______, so Grandma had to redraw it. But _________, the bright swirls of rice were transformed into a beautiful peacock. When Manju admired the peacock, he _______ a small piece of tile(瓷砖) peeking through on Grandma’s side.

A _________? But Grandma was away to answer the telephone. Should he fix it?

“I’ll surprise Grandma!” He decided. He _________ across, trying to reach the gap. Almost. His left leg inched up. There! Suddenly, Manju began to _________. His proud smile vanished. “No!” He crashed down on to the rangoli, scattering rice ____________.

Manju rose to his feet and pushed the rice back. But the colors were __________.When Grandma came back, Manju   __________. He said, “I’m sorry. I should have waited for you.” Grandma shook her head. “You saw a __________ and tried to fix it. I’m proud of you.” They picked up the rice, __________ each grain by color.

Just before nightfall, they finished fixing the rangoli.

Grandma lit candles around the rangoli. In the flickering light, the peacock seemed __________ with mystical powers. Manju smiled. The new year felt full of good luck, thanks to Grandma and him.

My son David was injured in his forehead so I had to take him to a hospital. I looked around the crowded waiting room in the hospital and sighed. I thought, “Will the doctor be able to see my eight-year-old son soon?” I tried steadying the ice pack (冰袋) over his forehead, but it was no use. I couldn’t stop shaking. The injury in his forehead was deep, but at least blood wasn’t pouring from it anymore.

His face was full of tears, but he seemed really brave for his age. I handed him the ice pack, and he covered his forehead with it. He was doing a much better job than I had. We were at the hospital because another child had thrown a rock at David during a break between classes as he was running around the corner. His teacher called me, and when I arrived, I found him sitting in front of her. His teacher was caring for his injury, trying to keep him calm. She felt terrible about what had happened, but I knew none of it was her fault.

David received four stitches (缝线) and didn’t cry once throughout the whole treatment. For the next two days, his forehead was swollen and black and blue. I felt like I’d had a mini nervous breakdown. Every time I tried to sleep or tend to housework, horrible thoughts crept into my mind. Fear had taken over, and then the fear turned to anger. I was angry with the child who’d thrown the rock. I just couldn’t shake it. What was she thinking? She should have known about that better.

David’s headmaster and teacher called me that evening to see how David was feeling and told me Cherry, the girl, felt terrible. I wanted to stand up for my son, do the right thing and protect him.

The next day, David’s teacher stopped by to see how David was feeling and dropped off a get-well card that Cherry had made. David and I read it several times, and I couldn’t help but feel a little choked up. It was a sincere apology.

This card mattered a lot to us.

We wondered how Cherry would make a response after reading the letter.

Yours,

Li Hua

6 . In the dining room of my grandfather’s house stood a large clock. When I was a child, the old clock interested me very much. I was surprised at how the clock would chime (敲响) three times, six times or more, with a wonderful _______sound. I often _______ it instead of the _______ when I had meals. And always the clock stood like an old family _______, watching the family. I found the clock comforting and _________. Year after year, the clock became a part of my _______.

It was even more wonderful to me when my grandfather carefully wound that clock with a special key each day. The key was magic to me. It kept the clock running. It kept the clock chiming. How did it do that? I watched as my grandfather took the key from his pocket and opened the door in the old clock and used the key to wind it. He never let that clock wind down and stop. When I got a little older, he _______me how to open the door, and let me wind the clock myself. I remember the first time I did, I felt so _______.

After my grandfather passed away, every time I saw the clock, I couldn’t help _______. Never could I see ________again. The hands on the clock were ________. It stopped. I took the key with my shaking hand and opened the door. All of a sudden, I was a child again, ________my grandfather. He was there,________me. I stood there, lost in the memories. Then ________ and carefully, I wound the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock… The dining room and the ________ seemed to be filled with life. In the image of the clock, my grandfather also lived again.

Betty and Kate were two sisters. Kate was so stuck with her sister Betty that she always followed her elder sister everywhere. For example, when Betty was painting, she would paint by her side. Every time, Betty looked at her angrily and said, “Couldn’t you find your own thing to do?” This time, it was Kate’s first week when she learnt gymnastics, while Betty had done gymnastics for the past two years.

Betty sat on the gym floor, waiting for her turn to do somersaults (翻筋斗). She frowned (皱眉头) at her little sister across the room and thought why Kate couldn’t always find her own thing to do? “Betty, you’re up!” called Betty’s instructor, Miss Carol. Betty came over and pushed off with her legs and straightened her arms. She did one, two, three somersaults. Miss Carol clapped and said, “Perfect!”

Betty noticed that Kate had stepped away from the younger group to watch Betty’s somersaults. “Kate!” called Kate’s instructor, Miss Brown, from across the room. Kate didn’t seem to hear her. Not until she was called three times did she run back to her group. “Your turn to do somersaults.” Miss Brown put an arm around her. Kate walked to the mat with her face turning red like a tomato. She bent down to start a somersault. When she rolled, she fell heavily on the mat. Kids laughed in surprise at the noise.

Kate stood uncomfortably and then ran towards the restroom. She was gone from the gym. After telling Miss Carol where she was going, Betty hurried to the restroom. She found Kate crying hard. Betty put an arm around her sister. Seeing Betty, Kate cried even harder. Kate sniffed, “I don’t want to do gymnastics any more.” Kate wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. This was Betty’s chance. If Betty said nothing to her sister, Kate might quit gymnastics forever.

Betty believed that she could persuade her sister to return to the training.

Betty realized it was so good a chance to encourage her sister.

8 . My philosophy professor was a typical odd philosopher, whose behavior was a bit _________. His disheveled (蓬乱的) appearance was _________ by a well-worn tweed (粗花呢) sport coat and poor-fitting thick glasses, which often _________ on the tip of his nose. Every now and then, as most philosophy professors do, he would dig into one of those existential “what’s the meaning of life” discussions. Many of those discussions got _________, but there were a few that really hit home. This was one of them:

“_________ the following questions by a show of hands,” my professor instructed.

“How many of you can tell me something about your parents?” Everyone’s _________ went up.

“How many of you can tell me something about your grandparents?” About three-fourths of the class raised their hands.

“How many of you can tell me something about your great-grandparents?” Two out of sixty students raised their hands.

“Look around the room,” he said. “In just two short _________ hardly any of us even know who our own great-grandparents were. Oh sure, maybe we have an old photograph stored away in a musty cigar box _________ know the classic family story about how one of them walked five miles to school barefoot. But how many of us really know who they were, what they thought, _________ they were proud of, what they were afraid of, or what they dreamed about? Think about that. Within three generations our ancestors are all but __________. Will this happen to you?”

“Here’s a better question. Look ahead three generations. You are long __________. Then it will be your great-grandchildren __________ you sitting in this room, What will they have to say about you? Will they know about you? Or will you be forgotten, too?”

“Is your life going to be a warning or a(n) __________? What __________ will you leave? The choice is yours. Class is over.”

Nobody __________ from their seats for a good five minutes.

9 . This is my son Matthew’s last night at home before college. I know that this is good news. I feel proud that Matthew will go to a great school. I know that this is his finest hour. But looking at the suitcases on his bed sends me out of the room to a hidden corner where I can’t stop crying.

Through the sorrow, I feel a rising embarrassment. “Pull yourself together!” I tell myself. There are parents sending their kids off to battle zones. How dare I feel so shattered?

One of the great gifts of my life has been having my boys, Matthew and John Owen. Through them, I have explored the mysterious, complicated bond between fathers and sons. As my wife and I raised them, I have discovered the love and loss between my father and me. After my parents’ divorce, I spent weekends with my dad in Ohio. By the time Sunday rolled around, I was unable to enjoy the day’s activities because I was already afraid of the goodbye of the evening.

Now, standing among Matthew’s accumulation of possessions, I realize it’s me who has become a boy again. All my sadness and longing to hold on to things are back, sweeping over me as they did when I was a child.

His bed is tidy and spare. It already has the feel of a guest bed. In my mind I replay wrapping him in his favorite blanket. That was our nightly routine until one evening he said, “Daddy, I don’t think I need a blanket tonight.” I think of all the times we lay among the covers reading. I look at the bed and think of all the recent times I was annoyed at how late he was sleeping. I’ll never have to worry about that again, I realize.

For his part, Matthew has been a rock. He is treating his leaving as just another day at the office. And I’m glad. After all, someone’s got to be strong. I’m proud that he is charging into the first chapter of his adult life with such confidence.