Twenty years ago, I drove a taxi to make a living. One night I took a fare at 2：30 am. When I arrived to collect her, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many other drivers would just honk once.
But I had seen too many poor people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation of danger, I always went to the door. “This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance,” I reasoned with myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute,” answered a weak, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened.
A small woman in her eighties stood before me. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
I took the suitcase at her request to the cab and put it in the trunk, and then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the cab.
When we got in the cab, she asked me to drive through downtown to a hospice.
Learning from her words that she wouldn’t live long, I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newly-weds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of the sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”
Paragraph 1:
We drove in silence to a low building, her destination.
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Paragraph 2:
I held her hand tightly, and then walked into the morning light.
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Broken Shells
It was a warm summer afternoon at the Jersey shore. My four-year-old son and I just loved walking along the beach just before dinner. With a bucket in hand, we’d hit the sand and start our adventure.
I remember the days not so long ago when a trip to the beach was just unbearable for my little boy. My son, Will, was diagnosed with ASD (孤独症). His sensitivities to sights, sounds, and touches would prevent us from enjoying everyday activities. The beach is now one of his favorite places to visit.
Presently, we are able to walk along the edge of the water almost daily in the summer months, looking for seashells to fill our bucket. On this particular day, there didn’t seem to be too many shells washed up on the shore. Will began picking up whatever shells he saw lying in the sand. After a while, I looked into the bucket and saw nothing but broken shells. “Will,” I said, “all of these shells are broken and no good.” “You need to find shells like this,” I continued, as I held up a perfectly shaped shell. Will gave me a puzzled look and continued on his way, gathering whatever shells he saw and dropping them into the bucket.
I continued my search for some time, and again, I stopped, but this time I asked in a firm voice, “Will, why do you insist on filling our bucket with shells that are broken?” He looked up at me and replied, “Mom, there are more shells on the beach that are broken than there are perfect ones that you are searching for. We’ll get the bucket filled faster with the broken ones.” True, I thought, but who wanted a bucketful of broken shells? Will stared at me as if he knew what I was thinking. “Mom, these shells are broken. but they are still beautiful.” he added. Just then he began commenting on different shells’ uniqueness. “It has the color purple on it. Mom, none of yours have purple on them. It reminds me of a clown (小丑). This one is like the sun, and these ones are like butterfly wings,” he said with such pride.
注意：
1.续写词数应为150左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Touched by what he said, I realized changes are to be made to our shell trip.
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Back home with great joy, we agreed to make more shell trips and build a “broken shell garden”.
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I was a proud mother of three children, my last little one being delivered in the middle of this pandemic. She was born in August and her name is Aida.
Shortly after having Aida, my mother-in-law showed me something she learned from her friend’s mother in an art class she attended weekly. She had shown me how to knit a scarf. She showed me stitches and gave me her half done project.
I spent a lot of time breastfeeding my sweet little girl, so I had some extra time to do something with my hands throughout the day. I enjoyed making the scarf so I purchased tons of yarn (纱线) since it was winter. I wanted to make scarves for my three children as Christmas gifts.
There was a new family that moved in down the street. The only daughter of the family was Jane, a shy girl, aged 14, the same age of my oldest son David. It seemed that she came from a financially disadvantaged family, for she always wore old clothes. Worse still, in such cold days, she had no more clothes to wear and trembled with cold.
Due to the pandemic, society was thrown into crisis mode. Schools were closed, food supplies and deliveries were suspended and children were stuck at home. In such discouraging times, however, they became good companions, talking and playing at home or around the houses.
It was dreadfully cold this winter. Every time David came back from outside, with red face, he always cried, “Mum, it’s freezing outside!” then he came over to see whether I finished the scarf. I could tell how impatient he was to wear my scarf sooner! I had to speed the project to satisfy his expectation. But David comforted me saying he could wait a few days. What a kind and considerate boy he was! Then my great project finally was accomplished on the morning ahead of Christmas.
注意：
1. 所续写短文的词数应为150左右；
2. 至少使用5个短文中标有下划线的关键词语；
3. 续写部分分为两段，每段的开头语已为你写好；
4. 续写完成后，请用下划线标出你所使用的关键词语。
Paragraph 1
I wrapped the scarf around David’s neck.
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Paragraph 2
Later that day David came back saying Jane also deserved a scarf.
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Twenty years ago, I drove a taxi. Once, I was called at 3 a. m. to pick someone up. When I arrived, the building was completely dark except for the light in a window. Many drivers would wait a short while, and then drive away. But I always went to the door to find passengers. They might need my help.
So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute.” answered a weak and elderly voice. I could hear the sound of something being dragged across the floor. After a long time, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me, with a small suitcase. “Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, could you come back and help me?”
I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to help the woman. She took my arm, we walking slowly toward the cab. She kept thanking me for my kindness “It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.”
When we got in the taxi, she gave me an address. Then she asked, “Could you drive through the downtown?”
“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to the nursing home.” I saw her eyes shining with tears. “I don’t have any family left,” she continued, “The doctor says I am too old to live alone.”
I quietly turned off the meter (计价器). “Which road do you want me to take?” I asked. “Take me to Sunrise Street, please. That’s where I was born,” replied the old lady.
For hours, we drove through the city. The old lady talked a lot about her good childhood life in Sunrise Street happily. But sometimes, she also sighed about her tough life now. I determined to do something for her. Soon, we arrived at the nursing home before we realized it.
注意：
1.续写词数应为100左右；
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching for her purse.
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