When the water came in under the door of their home in Naples, Florida, it was just a glimmer (隐约的迹象) on the floor, a sign that it was time to go. It was around noon on Wednesday, September 28 last year when Darcy Bishop woke her two brothers who had been resting after lunch. She pulled the wheelchair up to the oldest, Russell Rochow, 66, and helped him into it. Her other brother, Todd Rochow,63, was in his room. He could manage with a walker.

Both men had been born with cerebral palsy (脑瘫), and their mental development was like that of a young child. About 10 years ago, they started showing signs of Parkinson’s disease.   Bishop,61, was their lifeline, their little sister who had long felt an obligation to keep them safe.

“We have to go!” she shouted to Todd. She went to open the front door. It would not move. The weight of the water on the other side had made it shut. She rushed to try the door to the garage. It was stuck too. That’s when the house the three siblings (兄弟姐妹) shared began to flood. As Hurricane Ian bore down on Florida, many residents who’d decided to stay found themselves unable to leave even if they tried. Within days, around 100 deaths in the state were caused by the hurricane. On Tuesday, Bishop had planned to leave with her brothers for her daughter’s home 25 kilometres inland. But by then, there were so many warnings to stay put.

Now Bishop and her brothers were trapped. She texted her daughter at 12:34 p.m. “Water’s coming in.” Around her, she could hear the china breaking and the refrigerator falling over. The only way to go was up. Bishop guided Todd to the stairs, and he held the banister (扶手). She helped him pull himself slowly up to the top where he waited in a chair.

But stairs were impossible for Russell, who could neither walk nor bend his legs.

After a while, Bishop heard the rescuers were downstairs.

Caught in a flood

Mary and her parents were downstairs in the living room. Mary was looking through the windows at the endless rain outside. It had been raining non-stop for three days. She had never seen a storm this bad. It was making her nervous. The wind roared the rain beat on the roof and windows. Dad was listening to a weather report on the radio, while Mum was putting their important documents and disaster supplies into a bag.

“Mum, Dad,” said Mary suddenly, “I think we should leave here right away!”

“No” said Dad. “It’s too late! The radio says the city has already been flooded.”

“We can drive our car through the floodwater! Let’s just leave! I’m really scared!” cried Mary. “We can’t do that, honey,” explained Mum, “otherwise the moving water could wash the caraway!”

Mary walked to the door. She was curious to see how much water there was outside.

“Don’t open the door!” shouted Mum and Dad at the same time. “The water may flood in!”

Dad moved the dinner table against the door, in case the floodwater forced the door open. Mum waved to Mary to sit on the sofa. “Mary, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be OK,” she said softly, trying her best to comfort Mary. Her voice was calm, but Mary could tell she was worried too.

Without saying a single word, Dad walked to the sofa, sat down and hugged his wife and daughter. The sudden silence in the house seemed to make the wind and rain more frightening outside. What could they do?

Para 1: After a brief discussion, Mum and Dad made a decision.

Para 2: Finally, the rain stopped.

When a tornado(龙卷风) touched down in a small town nearby,many families were left completed ruined. Afterward all the local newspapers carried many human-interest stories featuring some of the families who suffered the hardest.

One Sunday, a particular picture especially touched me. A young woman stood in front of an entirely shattered(破碎的) mobile home, a depressed expression on her face. A young boy, seven or eight years old, stood at her side, eyes downward. Clutching(紧握) at her skirt was a tiny girl who stared into the camera, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

The article that went with the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a good opportunity to teach my children to help those less fortunate than themselves. I stuck the picture of the young family on our refrigerator, explaining their difficulty to my seven-year-old twins, Brad and Brett, and to three-year-old Meghan.

“These poor people now have nothing,” I said. “We’ll share what we have with them. I brought three large boxes down from the room upstairs and placed them on the living room floor. Meghan watched seriously, as the boys and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and foods.

While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged the boys to go through their toys and donate some of their less favorite things. Meghan watched quietly as the boys piled up old toys and games.

Meghan walked up with Lucy, her worn, much-loved rag doll hugged tightly to her chest. She came to the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Lucy's flat, painted-on-face, gave her a final kiss, then laid her gently on top of the other toys.

“Oh, Honey,” I said.” You don’t have to give Lucy. You love her so much.”

Meghan nodded seriously, eyes filled with held-back tears. "Lucy makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she’ll make that other little girl happy,too.”

The boys had watched,open-mouthed,as their baby sister placed her favorite doll in the box.

I looked my children for a long moment.

“Go back, Mom! Go back!” shouted my six-year-old daughter, June. I quickly turned around to cast my doubtful eyes on the backseat. worried. I had forgotten her younger sister, Scarlett. I was relieved to see the girls safe and sit in their car seats. but June’s expression was one of pure anxiety.

As I looked back from the driver’s seat, I found a young man in rags playing his guitar. His skinny, poor-looking dog rested next to his feet near an old, worn cardboard sign that read, “Homeless, please help.” We’d come across homeless people before and had talked about their needs and struggles. I should seize the chance to set a good example for my daughters to give a helping hand. So I searched for some cash, only to find I had nothing but credit cards. So I told June I didn’t have any cash. To my surprise, June opened her little pink purse and offered to give him a five-dollar bill, I responded with a sigh of relief, “Oh good. I’ll pay you back when we get home.” “No, Mom. I don’t want you to pay me back. I want to help him and give him my money.” she replied.

As we drove down the crowded rows of the parking lot, I told her that we would get to him. When we got there, I called out. “Excuse me. sir!” He cautiously walked toward our car and answered, “Yes ma’am?” June stretched out her entire body to hand him her five-dollar bill through the window and explained, “I want you to have this.” He smiled and hesitatingly asked, “This was your money?” “Yes! I want you to have it,” she proudly answered. “Thank you,” he said, touched by her thoughtfulness.

We exchanged a smile, and as we drove away, my younger daughter Scarlett began to cry. I noticed that she had emptied her purse with two quarters in her tiny hands and insisted on giving all her money to the young man.

I had no choice but to turn around.

The gentleman tightly held the coins in his dirt-stained hand.