When the last customer left, it was already 10:30 pm. Eric, an 18-year-old college student in Atlanta, dragged himself home. In order to save money to buy himself the new mountain bike, he had been working at KFC for over a month that summer vacation. He already had 120 dollars. With one more week, he would have his dream bike.

Entering his room, Eric found his younger brother Bill sitting on the edge of his bed with an uneasy expression on his face.

“Sorry, Eric. I ... I did something wrong,” Bill sprang up and said nervously.

“What is it?”

“This afternoon I went to play football on the road outside our house and accidentally hit our neighbor Mr. White’s car. I was so scared and I ... I hurried home in panic without telling him.”

“Is the car seriously damaged?”

“The ball hit the front hard and the left headlight of it got broken.”

“It’s truly your fault. It’s really dangerous to play football on the road. What’s worse, you shouldn’t come back without telling Mr. Smith about it,” Eric raised his voice, obviously annoyed. Hearing this, Bill lowered his head and bit his lips hard.

“Anyway, it’s no use crying over spilt milk. And it is too late today. We have to deal with it tomorrow. Now you just go to bed.”

When Bill went bed, Eric couldn’t go to sleep himself. Father always told him to be honest, to be a man respected by people and to be an example of his brother. He was sorry for his brother’s behavior. He shouldn’t have run away after he did something wrong. But he could understand him. Anyway, he was only a boy of seven and what had happened really scared him. But as his elder brother, he should do something about it although this may delay his plan of having the mountain bike. “Nothing serious, just another week in KFC,” he said to himself.

Eric got up early the next morning.

Mr. Smith was a little surprised to see the brothers.

“Would you say you are more of a scientist or an artist?” I commonly heard this question as I was preparing to start my neuroscience doctoral program, often after I told my teachers and classmates that I love writing poetry. I learned to respond, “A scientist” — not because it was necessarily true, but because I felt it would win me more respect. As an undergraduate, poetry had been a way for me to relax. But in grad school, I wanted to be seen as just as devoted to my work as those around me, who appeared completely undisturbed by nonscientific hobbies. So, I left my poetry by the wayside — but it wasn’t long before I felt a huge void (空虚) in my life.

By the second year of my Ph.D. , my paper project had become very boring and tiring and I was starting to burn out. One afternoon, a student mentioned the weekly event held by the university’s poetry club, of which she was a leader. After hearing how much I enjoyed poetry, she declared, “You should come!” A few days later, I sat in a crowded cafe, excited to be here and to be a part of it.

Through reading and writing poems, I rediscovered how to relax. However, I still worried about appearing less than fully dedicated to my science. So, when a senior grad student in my lab whispered, “I hear you love poetry!” I froze. My heart began to race. She went on to invite me to perform at our department’s art gala (联欢会). “By the way, Cheryl will be performing!” she added.

I was surprised to discover that Cheryl, our lab’s principal investigator, was a dancer. I excitedly sought her out, and we spoke for more than an hour about how science and art could intertwine (交织). She explained that my skill at picking up patterns in experimental results was the same one I used to create rhymes in my poems. With Cheryl as a model, I decided to perform at the gala, for once not feeling I had anything to hide.

The night of the gala, I was amazed at the talent of the performers.

Since then, I decided to be my whole self.

Sam was stubborn and liked to do things his own way. He liked to eat his meals one food at a time-no mixing. He wore his purple socks on Tuesdays and his lucky sweater whenever he had a spelling test.

Oscar was Sam’s father. He liked to do things, his own way, too. While the neighbors mowed(割草) their lawns, Oscar grew a wildflower meadow(草场). He got a haircut on the first Thursday of every month, whether he needed it or not. And he wore his lucky sweater to every one of Sam’s ball games.

Sam thought his dad was the smartest man on earth, and his dad thought Sam was the finest son a man could ever want... until the day they decided to build the tree house.

Sam had a picture in his mind.

Oscar had a picture in his mind.

The pictures didn’t match.

At the store, they disagreed on how much wood to buy. They argued about how long the nails should be. They quarreled about what color paint they should pick. And when they got home, they argued and ARGUED and ARGUED about which tree was best.

Sam wanted the maple. He wouldn’t give in.

His dad wanted the hackberry. He wouldn’t give in, either.

The boards and the nails and the paint sat in the backyard. They sat there in the hot, summer sunshine. They sat there when the autumn leaves fell. They sat under a blanket of snow all winter.

“Sam is so stubborn,” Oscar complained to Sam’s mother, “If he’d listen to reason, I could show him why the hackberry is best.“

“Why won’t Dad listen to my ideas?” Sam asked his mom.

Sam’s mother tried talking to Sam’s dad. He wouldn’t listen.

She tried talking to Sam. It did no good.

Spring came. The wildflower meadow began to bloom, and baseball practice started. Soon it was Mother's Day, and Sam made his mother a clay pot and filled it with flowers. She loved it.

Now Father’s Day was coming up.

“Oh no! I like this,“ said his dad.

My three-year-old son, Charles, has loved watching trucks, cars and all types of vehicles (交通工具) since he could sit up and look around. Charles was a fan of fire trucks, ambulances, garbage (垃圾) trucks and other vehicles which have wheels.

Because of his deep love for anything with wheels, I always made it a point to take him outside to watch garbage trucks drive up and down. Charles loved watching the workers and would get so excited when the drivers beeped the horns (鸣喇叭) at him as they went by. Charles would wave and shyly say, “Thank you.”

There was a particular waste management employee who was extra friendly. Charles was attracted by him, and after we knew his name — Lonnie, Charles talked about him throughout the day. One day, Lonnie rode by and said, “Charles, I promise when this pandemic (流行病) is over, I’m going to let you ride in my truck.” However, we were going to move out of the state about a week later. I had to tell Lonnie the truth.

The next week, we waited for the garbage truck. Finally, late in the afternoon, I heard the loud noise of the truck. I raced to the door, carrying Charles. We did not want to miss seeing Lonnie on our last week in Birmingham. Lonnie stopped the truck and got out. He told me he had some things for Charles — a hat, a yellow safety vest, two toy garbage cans, coloring books and so on. Charles was absolutely excited, especially by the garbage cans, and I was so touched. The next day, Charles and I were playing in the front yard when a man approached me. He said, “I’m Lonnie’s manager, and he has something special planned for Charles. Are you going to be here around 11 am?” I said, “Of course we will.”

At noon, something surprising happened.

Even though we moved out of the state, Charles still misses Lonnie.

Summer was coming to an end and there was a bit of Autumn in the air. The temperatures were getting cooler and cooler, the air was turning drier, and I could already see the first yellow and red leaves on the trees. It’s my favorite season. The weather was neither too hot nor too cold, which made people feel very comfortable. You could see fruit everywhere. Therefore, I spent as much time as possible in the wild enjoying the beauty of nature.

One day’, I had just finished taking my dogs for their morning walk when I noticed something. There was a young maple tree growing in my hallway. It was growing out of a tiny pile of earth on the porch (门廊) . Its bottom hadn’t even turned to wood yet, but it had three lovely red leaves growing out of it.

I smiled at this strong little tree getting so much growth and life out of so little soil. I knew, however, that it couldn’t grow much larger where it was. I bent (弯腰) down and gently took it out of the earth. I took it inside to show my daughter and have her take a picture of it. Then I walked with it out to the edge of the woods around the grass land behind my house.

Walking into the forest, I had a wonderful feeling. Nature can teach us so much about life. There are so many wonders, growth, and beauty in it. You can’t be out in it for long without being filled with wonder and respect.

I also took a moment to look at all the life around me. There were trees, bushes, weeds, flowers, butterflies, bees, spiders, and birds all’ so full of life. And I felt so happy that my behavior, however small, was helping do good to nature.

I wanted to find a happy home for this young tree, to grow.

Following my daughter’s suggestion, we built a garden to save plants.