【推荐1】When our second child was born, Jim and I thought she was perfect, but the doctor pointed out that her feet were turned inward. “Left uncorrected, it would be a problem,” he told us.

We determined to do anything we could to help our baby. When only two weeks old, I brought her back to the doctor, just as he had directed, and the doctor put her tiny feet into casts (矫正器), her precious baby toes just barely visible. Because she was growing, I had to take her back to the doctor every two weeks to have each foot recast.

Finally, the casting was finished and it was time for corrective shoes. Jim and I watched with hope and concern as she struggled to walk. Those first, awkward steps made us so proud. By the time she entered preschool, her steps appeared quite normal. Encouraged by her progress, we looked for something else to help strengthen her lower body.

When she turned six, we signed her up for skating lessons and soon she was sliding like a swan. We watched in amazement as she skated on the ice. She wasn't a perfect skater and she had to work hard at every new movement, but she loved the ice and her hard work paid off. At fifteen, she competed in both pairs-skating and the ladies' singles at the 1988 World Junior Championships in Australia, winning both events! At the senior World Championships in 1991, she won the ladies' singles. Then we found ourselves filled with love and admiration in France, at the 1992 Winter Olympics, as our daughter, Kristi Yamaguchi, won the gold medal.

We were proud of Kristi, respecting her strength and hard work, and how far she had come on two tiny feet that had once been in heavy casts. In our eyes, Kristi had always walked with the grace of a true champion.

【推荐2】In the fall of my junior year, my mother announced that she had signed me up for a volunteering project in Bolivia for my New Year's break. My first thought was,“That's impossible! I want a new computer and a new dress. How will I ever get all those gifts down there?” I was careful not to say these selfish things out loud. Was I really going to spend my New Year's break working in an orphanage in one of the poorest countries in the world?

The day finally came anyway. The children must have heard the engine and grinding (摩擦声) of the bus tires on the rough road, for as the bus turned the corner, I could see no fewer than fifty sets of clear, brown eyes looking eagerly at us. Immediately sprinting (奋力地跑) toward us, one little girl, Naomi, leapt into my arms and kissed my face before even saying,“Hola!”Excited by our arrival, the children directed us to the community center, really a basketball court, which had been decorated with colorful paper. Dressed in traditional Bolivian skirts, the teenagers sang a song as the younger children danced. Having obviously rehearsed (排练) for a long time, they proudly gave us this wonderful show.

The orphanage included ten “casas,” each housing a“family”of eight children. One afternoon I was invited to Casa San Francisco to eat lunch with one of the“families.”As I was served my plate, three-year-old Maria spilled her apple juice all over my food. Knowing not enough food was left in the pot, Eduardo, the eldest boy, offered me his. When I refused, he switched the plates anyway.

Not until several weeks after our return did I realize,“Hey, I didn't get that computer or the new dress.”At the same time, I realized how much I might have missed had I not gone on my Bolivia trip. The gifts I received from the orphaned children added not a single pound to the baggage I carried home, for the lasting gifts they gave me were those of joy, of friendship, and of growing up.

【推荐3】You taught me how to drink grapefruit juice. It was bitter and hurtful, bright and sharp. Like something grownups would drink. My first taste made me cough. You laughed. You were bright and bitter, too. You had your own grapefruit juice, but it was different. Not for kids, you warned me. It was stored atop the fridge and you kept it out of my reach,

We are in your kitchen. My mother, your sister, is not with us. Sometimes I ask why, but you cannot say. Neither of us knows what, besides death, keeps a mother from her child. So instead I sit and keep my eyes on you. I sit on the chair in the kitchen. You have told me this is my special spot. Adults are always telling kids that-something is special. Kids are always believing it. This makes me feel important. Like you need me. Like I am part of you.

We talk about all manner of things. Movies, sports, toys and school. Sometimes I ask you about your life, your own youth. About when you were 20 and living in New York, and everyone said you were the most beautiful. Only 5ft tall in a black mini dress, you dated Yankees and partied with stars. You tell me your life while we watch movies. I sometimes fall asleep in your giant bed, mirrors and glass and candles. It is not a place for kids, but you carve out a place for me.

When I grew we spent less time together. I became too tall to sit in your tiny kitchen. You were no longer the fun, joke-cracking aunt. You were just another lady Certainly nice, certainly family, but not special any more. I was a teenager, nothing was special any more. I had moved so many times, broken so many bonds, that I didn't know how to rest my heart with anyone.

We lost control of our lives slowly, the way a driver drifts into the wrong lane after too many drinks. My own life happened beyond my control. I had developed a taste for your adult grapefruit juice, and spent most of my days drunk. Sometimes you and I talked on the phone, and I was always fine. You were always fine. It was always great to hear from one another. It was always time to go.

【推荐1】On a sunny morning, I roamed through the park, savoring the gentle breeze, with the simple desire to locate a quiet spot for a good book. Little did I know that an unexpected encounter with a naughty creature would turn this peaceful outing into an unforgettable experience.

Settling down on a comfortable bench under an oak tree, I was fascinated by a novel, lost in a world of fictional characters. Suddenly, a strange sound interrupted me. Curiously, I glanced in the direction of the noise, only to discover a squirrel hurrying towards my bag. Immediately, I reached out to protect my bag from the thief. But the squirrel ran away, grasping a chocolate bar stolen from my bag. Fueled by determination to get my snack back, I gave chase to the creature through the park.

The squirrel displayed impressive flexibility, effortlessly jumping onto trees and leaping from branch to branch. Children and bystanders couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle of a grown adult chasing a squirrel. The chase continued, and as I ran after the squirrel, I became both exhausted and awkward. The peacefulness of the park transformed into a lively playground, with laughter echoing around us. The squirrel, seemingly aware of its comical effect, increased its speed and finally vanished into thin air.

As I made my way back to the bench, my heart still raced from the pursuit. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of companionship with the squirrel. It had reminded me to embrace the unexpected, to break free from routine, and most importantly, to find joy in life’s simplest pleasures. From that day forward, whenever I visit the park, I always keep a chocolate bar handy, just in case I come across my friend.

【推荐2】It was April 1, 2021. I was filming and skiing in the Tetons, a mountain range in Wyoming. I was with my friends Jeremy and Xavier, both experienced snowboarders.     1     I was the last person to ski. Jeremy and Xavier were watching me from a safe area.

Suddenly, I heard someone scream. I turned around and saw the whole mountain start to move behind me. It was an avalanche (雪崩). Tens of thousands of tons of snow were coming straight down the mountain behind me. I felt the snow push forward, hundreds of meters, and then cover me. It was so heavy that I couldn’t breathe.     2    

I looked down into the bottom of the valley.     3     However, they looked tiny to me because I was so far away. “OK, I’m going all the-way to the bottom!” I thought.

I thought the force of the snow would destroy me, because it was so powerful.     4     And I just managed to get right out of the snow at the bottom of the valley. It took Jeremy and Xavier about twenty minutes to reach me. They couldn’t believe it when they saw me. I was so lucky.

Has the experience changed me? Do I think about life differently? I don’t know, maybe.     5     Life is a gift, so use it wisely.