My Dad’s Best Flower

I remember my first home was a small apartment on the second floor with a lovely and spacious balcony. When my mom was busy in the kitchen, she let me stay on the balcony watching the kids playing in the street. On that balcony I played sometimes with my elder sister, Maria. She was seven years old and when my mom was absent, she was like a mother to me. The balcony was a great hobby place for my father. After his work he used to grow carnations(康乃馨) in flower boxes. His carnations were red, pink and white, and everyone appreciated them for their beauty.

He took care of them with so much love and devotion. He dealt carefully with his flowers like a mother taking care of her baby. Many ties I sat on the floor of the balcony for hours observing him and his lovely flowers with patience. He was always doing something on that balcony. He was watering them every day, cleaning the balcony floor, changing the potting soil and when the stems were thick, strong and high enough, he started his improvement operation attentively like a doctor.

My dad took a tiny knife and with his left hand he held the stem of the carnation and measured the height. Then he made a small mark on the stem with his finger. Afterwards he made a sharp cut with the knife, just enough to fit in again of barley (插穗的芽).Then he bandaged the stem with a small bandage. His job was then to water the plants and to take care of them. “No one should touch them,” he said to Mom. Every day, when he came home from work he went straight to the balcony.

Mom used to tell us, “Do not touch Daddy’s flowers.” For us it was a fascinating experience to watch how the small stems were growing and making flowers. When the carnations had grown big enough, my dad enjoyed watching them every day. We the kids did too.

Paragraph1：One day, my elder sister, who loved Dad very much, had a great idea.

Paragraph2：When my dad arrived, he went as usual, straight to the balcony and saw his flowers lying on the floor like dead animals.

A GIFT FOR GRANDPA

Jack and his brother Harry were filled with excitement, as they planned to visit their grandparents again this summer vacation

The big day came at last. After the happy family got ready, they set out for the grandparents’ cagerly On the way, the brothers were excitedly talking about the fun they had with grandparents.

A little blue house with a tall white chimney finally appeared. Behind the house was the forest carrying their good memories with Grandpa. They arrived at the driveway, at the end of which Grandma was waiting for them joyfully.

Jack and Harry each gave Grandma a big hug and then swept to the living room, shouting excitedly “Grandpa, we are back!” Seeing his grandsons, Grandpa was wild with joy and tried to get up with all his strength from the chair but in vain. A helpless expression flashed on his face. Grandma explained that his health was declining rapidly and maybe couldn’t stand up on his own forever. But Grandpa declared stubbornly (倔强地), “I can!” Certainly, he was stuck in his boyish way. Mum and grandparents were happy to meet again after a long time. They sat together and chatted about what happened recently.

The brothers were soon bored with adult conversation, went out and wandered into the forest. Tall trees stretched up to the heavens with large branches crossing each other, while young ones rose straight like soldiers. Grandpa was once a great explorer full of wisdom. He could tell where the birds came from only by their calls and songs. The trees, birds, lizards, lots of bugs. . . How many merry moments they spent with Grandpa in the kingdom!

But now Grandpa couldn’t get up. This made them worried. “We’d think out a way to cheer him up. ” Jack said. “Grandpa is a bird lover, and we can catch him a bird. ” Harry suggested. “But he hates birds being caged!” Jack shook his head

Then a bright idea came to Jack’s mind. “Why not make a cane(扔杖) out of a young tree?”

Harry thought it was a good idea.

Jack and Harry handed the cane to Grandpa.

When I was in Grade 10, my family had a tough time. My parents lost their jobs during the Depression. Dad was too ill to work outside, while mum had a hard time raising us kids on her own in our small community. We relied on our community assistance to keep us clothed, and although our clothes were second-hand, we thought they were beautiful.

Looking back, I realize what Mum went through for sending us kids to school. Every morning she would put a new piece of cardboard in our shoes, because our shoes were worn out. Constant moving was typical for my family in these times. Rent was twenty-five dollars a month, but Mum couldn’t pay it. These were hard and sad years, but we never complained.

New Year was approaching, and we were entitled to a twenty-five dollar fund for social services. Mum said that instead of buying food, she would use the money to pay back rent, assuring us all of a roof over our heads for a little while longer. She told us then there would be nothing for New Year.

Unknown to Mum, I had been shoveling snow and doing odd jobs to earn enough money to buy a new pair of gloves. I knew exactly which gloves I wanted. They were made of genuine leather and they had a price of twenty-three dollars. Well, the big day came on the last day of that year. I was very excited, as I hurried up to catch the bus. It was only a half-a-mile walk, but on the way I noticed a house with lights and decorations. It was then that I realized at our house, we had no lights, no decorations, nor any money for goodies. I knew then that we would have no delicious food for New Year, and I felt sad.

As I continued walking, I began to feel bewildered. I was sixteen years old, and I was feeling a strange sense of guilt. Here I was going to buy a new pair of gloves while Mum was home in tears. She would be trying to explain to us why there were no presents.

The bus drove off without me.                                                                                                           

When Mum opened the door, she surprisingly found that some of the groceries fell inside onto the floor.        

When Ruth Hagan was 78 years old, she visited her daughter Judy and teenage granddaughter Marcy in California. They headed for their cabin, going forty miles up and down the mountains in their Bronco, winding terrifyingly close to cliffs.

After dinner Marcy announced the water tank was low and that she would take the Bronco down to the pump and get water. Ruth was nervous about her young granddaughter driving down the narrow dirt road by herself, but Judy reminded her that Marcy had been driving vehicles up there on the ranch roads since she was 12.

"Just be careful, Marcy," her mother warned. "The cliff side is pretty shaky. Be sure to hug the mountain side." Fifteen minutes later Judy was still watching when suddenly she screamed. "Oh no! She went over the cliff, Momma! The Bronco and Marcy—they went over! We have to help her! Come on!"

Judy took off running. Ruth ran behind her, but Judy was quickly out of sight. Ruth raced down the steep hill, breathing hard. She ran on and on, down the hill, up the next, trying to catch up with her daughter. It was getting harder and harder to see anything at dusk.

Ruth stopped and looked around. She screamed into the darkness, "Judy, where are you?" Off to her immediate right and down the cliff she heard, "Down here, Mother! Don't come near the edge! I slipped on loose rocks and fell over. I'm down about twenty feet."

"Oh, dear God, Judy, what can I do?"

"Just stay back, Momma! I think I can crawl back up. I saw the white roof of the Bronco when I was falling, Momma, and I heard Marcy calling for help. She's alive! But she's way down there in the valley. You have to go back to the cabin and phone for help. Tell them to send a helicopter. We have to get Marcy out!!"

Ruth turned around and started running back the hill she'd just ran awkwardly down. Up the hill, down the next. She had one hill left to climb when she fell on her face. Chest pains took her breath away. She started to sob.