My daughter Kathy’s birthday was approaching. Last Sunday, in the early morning, she asked me whether I’d buy her a birthday gift.

I said, “Of course. And to buy the gift, I decide to sell your never-to-be-used-again baby things that still look new and useful. Will you allow it?” She immediately agreed and began sorting out her baby stuff. My husband Sam gladly joined us. Soon, we gathered the stuff well enough. I decided to take them to the second-hand market in the following week and then use the money collected to buy Kathy the bike she dreamed about.

Thinking about that, I waved Kathy and Sam goodbye and left for the local hospital to visit an ill friend there. After twenty-five minutes of drive, I arrived. And after seeing my friend, I went to turn in my visitor’s pass at the hospital desk. There, I overheard an argument between a receptionist (接待员) and a worried and disappointed man whose clothes were a little worn out. The receptionist was explaining that his newborn girl couldn’t leave the hospital without an infant car seat.

Confused, the man asked, “What’s on earth an infant car seat? How much can one cost?” Based on his accent and appearance, I guessed he probably was new here. While I observed the man, the receptionist told him, “Sir, it’s a soft seat made specifically to protect infants and younger babies in a vehicle. It can be easily put in the vehicle. The price often ranges from 70 dollars to 550 dollars.”

So upset, the man said, “Where can I get such a seat at this time and where can I get the money to buy one?” “I’m sorry, sir, but this is what the state law requires. Nobody can take a baby out of the hospital without that seat,” the receptionist said. “Your wife can go home with you today, but the baby can’t leave unless she’s in a car seat.”

My daughter just had an infant car seat, which I had planned to sell. Finding the man looked so helpless, I wondered whether to give him Kathy’s seat for free.

While debating with myself, I thought about my late mom who never hesitated to help strangers.

When the man and I got to my house, Sam and Kathy felt surprised.

My best friend, Cocoa, and I live in a senior-citizen apartment complex in a lovely small town. Cocoa is a ten-year-old poodle(卷毛狗) and I am a sixty-nine-year-old lady, so you can see we both qualify as senior citizens.

Years ago, I promised myself that when I retired I would get a chocolate poodle to share my golden years. From the very beginning, Cocoa has always been exceptionally well-behaved. I never have to tell him anything more than once. He is extremely neat—when taking toys from his box to play, he always puts them back when he is finished. I have been accused of being obsessively neat, and sometimes I wonder if he mimics me or if he was born that way, too.

He is a wonderful companion. When I throw a ball for him, he picks it up in his mouth and gives it back to me. He does many amusing things that make me laugh, and when that happens, he is so delighted that he just keeps it up. I enjoy his company very much.

But almost two years ago, Cocoa did something that challenged comprehension. Was it a miracle or a coincidence? It is certainly a mystery.

One afternoon, Cocoa started acting strangely. I was sitting on the floor playing with him when he started pawing and sniffing at the right side of my chest. He had never done anything like this before, and I told him, “No.” Usually, one “no” is sufficient, but not that day. He stopped briefly, then suddenly ran toward me from the other side of the room, throwing his entire weight—eighteen pounds—at the right side of my chest. He crashed into me and I yelled in pain. It hurt more than I thought it would have.

Soon after this, I felt a lump (肿瘤). I went to the doctors, and after X-rays, tests and lab work were done, they told me I had cancer.

When cancer starts, a wall of calcium(钙) builds to which the lump or cancer attaches itself.

Was Cocoa just aware of what he was doing?

The moment my son Joe knew I was going to have another baby, he tried his best to stay out of our lives. By the time our daughter Molly was due to be born, I had grown accustomed to his embarrassment and animosity (敌意). I had grown accustomed to a lot of things, not the least of which was having an unexpected child at the age of thirty-nine. My husband, to his eternal credit, was delighted. Throughout it all, Joe rarely spoke to me, except to say, “You don’t have to come to my school,” and — after a marathon baby naming conference—“Call her Molly, the name of my friend’s dog.”

When Molly finally arrived, tiny, quiet and perfect, four family arms were there to draw her close. But Joe’s remained tightly crossed over his chest, on the far side of the hospital room I signed to him to come closer but he shook his head slightly. I could see him standing there, arms still folded, staring straight ahead.

Joe stayed away at a friend’s cottage when Molly and I came home from the hospital. He was still gone ten days later when I took our daughter for her first check-up. He arrived home just as I was coming back, tears streaming down my face. “The doctor thinks she might have a hearing problem,” I sobbed. “She’s too quiet she’s not responding like she should. We have to have her tested.”

As my husband comforted me, downplaying my worry, I noticed that Joe had stopped beside the baby, sound asleep in her car seat. He reached out to her, shifting her slightly away from a bump (隆起) in the carpet. “She’s okay,” he said, looking down at her. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s just little.”

Three months later as I walked the floor at 4:00 A. M. with a crying and inconsolable (难以安抚的) (and otherwise perfectly healthy) baby in my arms, I dragged myself into Joe’s room and woke him up “Joe, could you take her? Just for a few minutes? I can’t settle her down, Dad’s on business, and I just really need a break.”

Saying nothing, Joe took his little sister from me.

Seeing Molly sleeping peacefully in Joe’s bed, I walked out, followed by Joe.