I had been going through some difficult times not so long ago dealing with the pressures of growing up and trying to communicate with my parents, particularly my mother. Our relationship had suffered because of this. When I got angry, it seemed like we would end up fighting with each other and not talk about what we were really feeling. Luckily, I have solved those problems now after we had a heart-to-heart “talk”.
A while back I ran away from home so that I could be far enough away to cool down. I stayed away for many hours, well into the night, before I finally decided to return home. When I walked through the front door, I immediately saw all the pain, anger and disappointment on my parents’ faces, especially my mother’s. For days to come, my mom and I experienced a lot of suffering. Everything we did or said was filled with tension until we were unable to control our feelings. We knew we badly needed to have a talk. We agreed to have breakfast together the next morning. That morning will remain fresh in my memory forever. It was a turning point.
We decided to go to a local café. On our way to the table, I noticed that my mother had two notebooks and some pens. I asked her what they were for. She explained to me that sometimes it was easier to write down our feelings rather than try to talk about them. She then handed me one notebook and she kept the other. The rules for that talk were that she would pick a topic, and we would write down our feelings, and then exchange our notebooks. It could be as long or as short as we wanted.
注意：
1. 续写词数应为150个左右；
2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
Our first topic was: “Why I am so angry.”
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We exchanged our notebooks and read the words.
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It’s hard being an astronaut’s son. I often wonder how my father ever had a son like me. I mean he’s so special and so good at everything he does. But I’m just an average eleven-year-old kid.
Nowadays I dream about being a famous writer, but I used to dream about doing something special to impress my father and make him proud of me-something like rescuing a child from a burning building.
I was dreaming in school one morning, which I often do. I was daydreaming about being some kind of hero when my friend Ellen reminded me of my English teacher’s announcement about a Father’s Day essay contest.
“I hope we have a winner right here in my English class.” she said. “There are three prizes for each of you.”
When I got home, I kissed my mom quickly. Then I went upstairs to my room and sat down with a pen and a pad of paper. I started to think about what I would write.
How did I see my father? Mmm…
I saw him teaching me how to use a bat and how to throw baseball.
I remembered how he hugged me for hours when my dog Spotty was hit and killed by a car.
And I remembered how he sat and tried to explain death to me when Grandpa Bob died.
These were the things I was going to write about my dad. To me, he wasn’t just a famous astronaut. He was my dad.
I wrote about all these memories and put them in my essay. I handed it in the next day and was surprised to find out that the winning essays would be read in the lecture hall on Thursday night. All the parents and students were invited.
My parents and I went to school Thursday night. One of our neighbors said, “I bet you’ll win the contest, David. I bet you wrote what it’s like to be the son of an astronaut, and you’re the only one in town who could write about that. ”
注意：1. 续写词数应为150左右。
2. 请按以下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
I shrugged and then the first winner - Ellen was announced.
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The second prize winner was announced next - It was me.
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It was the biggest night of my life—opening night. Hours of preparation, daily rehearsals, and weeks of perfecting songs had gone into this production. I had recited my line a thousand times, convinced that my one sentence would be the highlight of the show,if only I delivered it with just the right amount of expression. This was big. Bigger than big. This was influential, a big event for every second grader to pass through my elementary school. This was the second grade play.
There was just one problem. My mom and dad wouldn’t be attending the musical. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to;they would have gone if they could. There was just one thing standing in the way, a six-letter word that my seven-year-old brain hadn’t quite processed yet: cancer. My mom’s surgery was scheduled on the same night as the second grade play, quite possibly the most important night in all of my seven years of life.
My parents had explained it all to me. The cancer was making my mommy sick,and she needed the doctors to take it out as soon as possible. But as they said, the show must go on.
Soon the big moment came,and we all filed onto the stage and stood seriously looking out at the audience of moms, dads, siblings and grandparents. The show began, and my second grade class started singing with off-key but nevertheless angelic seven-year-old voices.
Finally,it was my turn to speak.The kid standing next to me made an attempt to hand over the microphone, and I took a deep breath before beginning my line. As I started to speak, I noticed something had gone horribly wrong. Blood rushed to my face when I realized that the microphone was not turned on. Embarrassed, I turned it over and switched the device on. I then proceeded to say my line as quickly as possible and hand the microphone off.Looking out,I couldn’t find any comforting faces, and I just knew that I had messed up.
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。
When the show was over,I walked off the stage to find my grandparents waiting for me.
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A few days later my mom returned home from the hospital.
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Mom and I walked side by side through the town. I was twelve years old, and dependent on her. She raised me by herself, and except for when I was at school, we were almost always together.
She was a nurse, but after my birth she quit her job to care for me. It was said that she was once one of the best nurses in a big local hospital. Recently she had returned to work there. She said she wanted to spend more time being with me, but she couldn’t.
I didn’t like her going back to work. She left at 5：45 am, which made me responsible for waking myself up, fixing breakfast and walking to the 7：30 am bus.
I hated being left home alone in the mornings, but I especially hated having to take the bus. Once I had missed it. I wasn’t only late to school, but I had also caused Mom to scramble to find someone else to drive me. After that, I was so worried about missing the bus that I left for the bus stop too early every day. I stood by myself before the other kids arrived, in wind, rain and snow, having to bear the embarrassment when crowded by adult passengers sometimes.
Mom worked the day shift so she could pick me up after school. Every time she didn’t go to the hospital, she would drive me both ways. Those were the best days.
On such a day, as we walked on the sidewalk, I saw an old man coming close to us. When he saw us, he suddenly showed a wide smile, but I didn’t recognize him. “Leigh! Leigh!” he said, calling my mother’s name. My mother also greeted him cheerfully. He asked me whether I was the daughter of my mom. I said “yes”. “I didn’t know him and just looked at him, unsure of my role. “Well, it is very nice to meet you, young lady. I hope you know how lucky you are!” he said.
Paragraph 1：
Not knowing why he said so, I looked at him uncertainly.
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Paragraph 2：
Mom said there was no need to thank her, but the man insisted.
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