I stood in front of the house, waiting for Grandma’s box of cookies. Every Saturday, a box of cookies would arrive on our doorstep tied with a brown string. As far as I could remember, Grandma, carrying the box, was always there on time.

Jack, my younger brother, had always been fonder of the cookies. He was still childish, maybe not understanding the value of time with family. As for me, I was always Grandma’s little girl, and possibly she loved me more than Mom. There was something about Grandma that made her so special. In fact, seeing her every Saturday was the happiest thing all week for me.

Jack played in the yard and picked flowers for the dinner table. Mom always wanted the prettiest ones, and Jack just knew which ones she would love most.

“The weather report says today will be a rainy day. So will Grandma still come?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, looking up at the sky. The clouds were dark gray and thick, which just made me more upset. However, Jack didn’t seem too excited about the cookies this time. He was arranging his flowers attentively.

“You’d better come in! I can feel a few raindrops on my head,” Mom shouted. Jack quickly ran towards her, carrying many flowers. Some even slipped out of his hands, creating a colorful trail behind him.

“I brought you some roses, Mom!” Jack said, shoving (猛推) the flowers into her hands. I found he left some flowers in his hand. Who was he going to give them to? Mom then looked back at me. “Would you rather be outside in the rain?” she questioned. I shook my head. “It’s just a box of cookies. I can get it next Saturday,” I thought. However, I knew it was more about the cookies — it was a lot of love from Grandma.

Mom gave me a small smile and repeated, “I knew you wouldn’t want to get wet. Come in, baby.” I was about to step inside when a familiar voice came, “Jenny, I’m coming!” I turned back and saw Grandma shuffling (拖着脚走) towards me.

I rushed towards Grandma with open arms.

“Grandma, you brought the cookies again!” Jack said happily.

My dad, John, was a basketball fan. He played in college and even coached a local youth team for a few years. His love for the game was unbelievable, and some of my earliest memories are of us playing basketball in the nearby court. I’ve even seen old photos of him in his college days, a proud smile on his face as he held a basketball. But when it came to my own involvement in basketball, he was surprisingly positive that I should focus only on study. “Basketball won’t pay the bills,” he’d often say, a statement that always struck me as ironic (讽刺的) given how much he loved the sport.

I loved basketball too, and I was pretty good at it. My school coach, Coach Miller, saw potential in me and encouraged me to join the school team. He said I had a natural talent that could take me far if I trained hard. But my dad was against it. He believed that sports would distract me from my studies, and with the final exam around the corner, he didn’t want to take any chances. “Your future is in the classroom, not on the court,” he would insist, dashing my dreams of following in his athletic footsteps.

This tension between us reached a peak when my head teacher, Mrs. Williams, announced a school basketball tournament (联赛). It was a big deal; students from the whole city would come to watch. My friends were excited, and even some teachers were talking about it. However, I knew I couldn’t participate without my dad’s approval. It felt like an invisible chain holding me back, a conflict between my passion and his expectations.

Then something unexpected happened. Mrs. Williams called my dad for a meeting. I was nervous but also hopeful. Mrs. Williams was not just an educator; she was also a parent and understood the balance between academics and extracurricular activities. She had seen students succeed in both, and I hoped she could convince my dad.

After the meeting, my dad seemed to be in deep thought. He didn’t speak immediately, taking his time as if weighing his words carefully. Finally, he broke the silence, “Mrs. Williams made some good points about teamwork and discipline. Maybe it’s time to rethink my stance (立场) on you playing basketball.”

I was thrilled but also cautious. “So, can I play in the tournament?” I asked.

As I scanned the audience, I spotted my dad.

Mom was busy in the kitchen when my brother Marco and I got home from school on Friday. “Did you remember your grandmother’s coming today?” She asked. “Sure, Mom,” we laughed. “Didn’t you notice we cleaned our rooms?” Mom smiled and continued, “Thanks. I know I shouldn’t be nervous, but my mother hasn’t been here for almost six years! As I was growing up, her house always looked perfect. So I want everything to be well.”

“Perfect,” I said with a smile. “What else can we do to help before she gets here?”

Mom looked around,“You two could set the table. Use the good bowls. And be very careful with the glasses Grandma gave to us before you were born!”

As Mom prepared a big meal, Marco and I set the table. I taught Marco how to line up the forks on the left side of each p late and the knives and spoons on the right. In the center of the table, we placed a set of tall white candles. Then we stepped back and looked at our work. It seemed something was missing. “What’s missing?” I asked Marco.

“Napkins?” He asked. “And I don’t think Mom would want us to use paper ones!”

We both laughed. Marco opened a drawer and took out the nice cloth napkins Mom saved for special occasions （场合）. The soft white squares were folded in the middle, and we placed one on each plate. “Do you think that looks good enough?” I asked.

“No,” Marco answered. “Let’s make them look better. Remember the restaurant we went to last year? Their napkins were folded into different shapes! That was great!”

I nodded and unfolded the cloth napkin in front of me. “Look,” I said, pointing to the napkin, “These lines make special shapes. That gives me a great idea! Let’s do origami （折纸）. That’ll make the napkins unique!”

Marco looked confused, so I explained,“Origami’s a kind of folding art. People usually use paper, but you can use cloth. You make boats, birds or flowers just by folding. Nothing else is needed!”

Nick had a difficult childhood, with neither mom nor dad giving him love because his parents died when he was ten. Now he was 27 years old. He had no friends around. As for his work, delivering newspapers couldn’t support his family. He had a wife, Kara Lewis, but he did not know exactly how to get along with her. His life was in a mess and he couldn’t see his future.

That night, Nick had a quarrel with his wife and he’d stormed out of their apartment, leaving his phone behind so she couldn’t contact him. Then he drove the car and smoked in the parking lot; he liked to go there when he needed to be alone. Looking up at the stars, he sat in silence for 15 minutes or so. Then he decided to head home.

He was on the way back to the apartment just after the midnight when he saw the house on fire. Flames were climbing up the front porch, lapping at the home’s walls. Hurrying out of the vehicle, he immediately regretted not having his phone. “Hey, help, the house is on fire!” he yelled into the night. Nobody responded. He ran around to the back door. To his amazement, it swung open. Without thinking about the danger, Nick dashed into the burning building.

It was a two-story house where Walter family lived with two daughters,18-year-old Kay and 2-year-old Sally. That night the parents were not at home, with their 18-year-old daughter taking care of Sally.

The curtains were melting as Nick ran through the hallway of the burning house, peering into rooms that were in flames and searching to see if anyone was home. Just then, one face emerged from a room at the top of the stairs and peered down at him, her eyes wide. “Your house is on fire. You need to go!” Nick yelled, hurrying her out of the house. After they were out into the fresh air, Nick heard the girl kept screaming, “There’s a baby in there! I couldn’t find her in the bedroom.”