A Gift I Treasure

It was just a week before my seventeenth birthday. Party preparations had started. My family never celebrated birthdays on such a grand scale. However, this was a double celebration. I had a passed A level examination with flying colors and my parents thought this was an occasion to celebrate.

The whole house was full of activities. Complete cleaning had started a week before. There was a continuous work in and out as everyone went about doing their share of the work. Mama, who was the chief event organizer, was busy planning the budget and the menu. Papa was in charge of paying for the different purchases. My siblings (兄弟姐妹) were busy sending out the invitations. Even Grandpa, who enjoys watching his favorite Cable TV from the comfort of his armchair, did not want to be left out. He made numerous trips to town to run errands (跑腿) for Mama.

Grandpa and I shared a special bond. Perhaps it was because I was his oldest grandchild. He was always there for me and he would offer me his shoulder to cry on whenever I was depressed. He seemed to be the happiest man to celebrate my birthday and he even secretly whispered to my ear that he was going to give me a great gift on that day.

Two days before my birthday, Grandpa complained of chest pains. We rushed him to the hospital but he refused to be admitted. He was given a lot of medicine instead. When he came home, he remained in his room. Whenever I went into his room, he managed a smile. I could see that he was very tired. The corners of his mouth and eyes had numerous wrinkles while the skin on his skinny limbs had shriveled. I felt a stab of pain in my heart each time I saw him.

Paragraph 1: During the early hours of my birthday my mother’s sobbing awakened me.

Paragraph 2: I only opened the parcel two days after Grandpa’s funeral.

“Let’s invite the neighbors to a get-to-know-you party!” I announced to my wife, Sarah, and our 11-year-old twins, Olivia and Holly, as we pulled into the driveway of our new house.

The idea had come to me the day we moved in a month earlier. Every time we passed each basketball field and garden, my excitement grew. Families! I could picture us all hanging out together.

Now, here I was at the end of that driveway, sitting in my camp chair, having serious second thoughts. What if we wait a couple more months to hold a get-together? What if we get to know a few folks first? Anyway, I made the final decision.

Sarah rearranged bags of chips and popcorn in a basket she’d set out. “I hope we have enough,” she said. Olivia and Holly threw the beanbags to each other to pass the time. A week earlier, Sarah had designed the invitations, “Hello! We’re new to the neighborhood. The Miller Family. We’d love to meet you. Monday, July 5, anytime between 6 and 8 p. m. It would be great fun!”

Sarah and the girls had gone house to house, putting an invitation in their mailboxes on Whitney Drive, namely the Parkers, a single mother Sally with two kids and Mr. Davis. Coming home, the kids excitedly talked about the Willsons’, an elderly couple they me t in the neighborhood, who seemed to be quite interested when they told them about the party.

However, we hadn’t heard a word since.   I checked my watch. 6:10. Maybe I’d misjudged. Sarah also had her doubts obviously. “Would we look silly sitting all alone in our front yard?” she said. “What if no one shows up?” I put my arm around her and drew her close. “We have to have faith,” I said. Then I took two bottles from the cooler I’d stored with juice boxes and cold drinks. Sarah and I clinked (碰杯) them together. “To our new neighborhood,” I said.

Another ten minutes dragged by and then my eyes widened.

Chatting with the old couple in the yard, we found more neighbors coming.

“Jane, hurry and get your coat. We’re going to the store,” Dad said. I ran to do as my father instructed. A shopping trip with Dad was a rare experience. He traveled a great deal of time, and I valued the unexpected chance to be alone with him. Once in the car, I asked, “Where are we going?” Dad only smiled, “You’ll see.” To my surprise, we didn’t take the usual turn to the area’s one department store.

Instead, we turned down an alley (小巷) where small houses lined the road. Dad parked the car, got out, and walked to the front door of the first house on the street. Within a few minutes, he returned with Connor, a boy from our school. I tried to hide my disappointment. I had wanted my father to accompany me. At that time, it looked as though I would have to share him with someone else. “Hi, Connor,” I said, only just able to keep the upset and unhappiness from my voice.

“Hi,” he replied. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Then, Dad drove to the store. Once inside, he led us to the boys’ clothing section. I was much unhappier. Not only did I have to share my dad, but I also had to look at boring clothes. “Connor will give a poem-reading performance in your school’s 40th anniversary celebration next Friday,” Dad said. “He’ll need a suit to wear for this big occasion. So we’re here.” Connor looked with wonder at the row of clothes.

Dad must have noticed my unhappiness.

I lived with Lassie, a black and white dog, sitting with her head on my lap, her intelligent, brown eyes staring at me as if to say, “Have a good day.”

Lassie arrived at my front door four years ago. Because I couldn’t find its owner, I had to keep it. Throughout the years, she was with me, proving to be a superb “judge” time and time again. I never knew if it was as a result of her sense of smell or sound or sixth sense. However, whatever it was, she definitely had a talent humans lacked. She would either wag the tip of her tail a couple of times to indicate that the visitors were acceptable, or slightly curl her top lip, which told you to be cautious. Her judgement was always accurate. Her gift was never more apparent than tonight.

The doorbell rang. I decided not to answer it. It rang again more insistently this time. Someone just wouldn’t go away. Still I hesitated. On the fourth ring, with Lassie by my side, I finally answered the call. I was getting very nervous for there stood a “monster”. The man had big eyes with a twisted body under a heavy overcoat, and his head leaned slightly forward.

“May I use your phone?” The deep voice came from somewhere back in his throat. Although the request was polite, his tone was rough. I shrank back as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He took a step forward and further asked me for permission. Again, I refused his request. Thinking he might try and force his way in, I looked at Lassie to see if she was ready to defend our home. Surprisingly, she sat by my side, the tip of her tail wagging.

“You’re crazy, Lassie,” I thought to myself. But there was no denying sign. Based on past experience, I trusted her judgement. The man explained to me that he lost his phone by accident.

Unwillingly, I handed my phone to the man.

After that, I almost forgot about the man, but one day, a deep voice came from outside the door again.