In the small town of Elmsworth, there lived a boy named Daniel, who was often overshadowed by his more outgoing siblings（兄弟姐妹）. He was quiet and thoughtful, preferring the company of books to that of people. Yet, deep inside, there was a burning desire to prove himself, to step out of the shadows and into the light.

One day, a golden opportunity presented itself when his school announced a public speaking competition, an opportunity that Daniel knew he had to seize. The competition represented not just an academic challenge but a personal one. It was a chance to remove his self-doubts and show his true abilities to himself and others. But the thought of standing alone on a stage filled him with fear, a terrible feeling that always kept him in the shadows Daniel didn't tell his mother the news of the speaking competition when he got home after school that day. But his mother sensed his hesitation and pain. Instead of suggesting anything, she took him for a walk in the woods just beyond their backyard. There, among the towering trees, she showed him a tiny acorn（橡子）lying in the soil. “This small acorn,” she bent down and said, “has the potential to become a powerful oak（橡树）. It will push through the soil, fighting against the darkness seeking the light. It's the same with you, Daniel. The strength to grow, to reach for the sky, is already within you.” She paused, allowing the words to sink into his heart, her gaze filled with the belief that he too could achieve greatness.

Daniel looked at the acorn, then at his mother, and felt a spark of determination. It was as if the tiny acorn had whispered to his soul, “You too can rise above the ordinary.” With a newfound sense of purpose, he knew he would face the competition with the same strength that the acorn would one day display as a towering oak.

With renewed courage, Daniel began to prepare for the competition.

The day of the competition arrived.

My father was sixty-five. Though he had planned on retiring at sixty, he was still working hard. For him, raising four children—especially now that my mother had stopped working and was at home full time—meant he couldn’t afford to retire. It also meant he failed to achieve anything he promised my mom. “Sweetheart,” he’d say, “I’m going to take you on a cruise (乘船游览).” He still told her that, and only these days he added, “as soon as the kids are out of college.”

I knew that putting all of us kids through college probably meant it was going to be a while before my father achieved his dream of going away with my mother on a cruise—though it didn’t stop him from cutting out ads about cruise vacations! It was cute, but it was kind of sad, too. I remember my grandmother always wanted to go to Nova Scotia. My grandfather would always say, “We’ll go next year, sweetheart.” Then she died. My grandmother never got to see Nova Scotia. I just didn’t want my parents to wait until it was too late.

I decided to save up my money to send my parents on a cruise even if it was a short three-day cruise. My friends said to me, “Get real! Saving up for a cruise is something you will never be able to do.” But I didn’t believe that. It was not like I could send them around the world or anything, but I didn’t think my putting together the money for a short trip was an impossible goal. I was determined that just as my parents had made my dreams come true for all these years from my first bicycle to my first soccer camp—I was going to do all I could to make their dream of going on a cruise come true.

I started doing odd jobs (零工) and yard work around the neighborhood.

One year later, I finally saved up enough money!

Last summer vacation, I worked as a part-time waiter in a restaurant for the first time. It was challenging for me to adapt to the fast-paced work and communicate with strangers at first. Nevertheless, I was determined to provide customers with good service.

One day, a man and his son came in and spent a very long time looking through the menu. Eventually, the father called me over and started asking me about the ingredients (配料) because his son was allergic (过敏的) . Then the boy handed me a card that listed all the things he was allergic to. It was a lot. I couldn't remember all exactly, but I knew eggs and pork were on the list, as well as a couple of ingredients, like pepper. I asked to borrow the card so I could make a check. He agreed, and off I went.

It turned out that a lot of our ingredients and sauces used at least one thing the boy was allergic to, and the allergy to pork took over half our menu options away on its own. Despite being awfully busy, I spent nearly fifteen minutes checking basically everything on the list. The father seemed pretty surprised that I was going out of my way to figure this out.

Finally, I did figure out what I could do to serve the boy. Because he had an allergy to meat, I washed every piece of the cutting board carefully and wiped the table as pork oil was everywhere.

When I finally placed their dishes on the table, I felt proud of myself for getting everything right. However, that feeling was short-lived. Shortly after they started eating, while I was cleaning the table behind them, I overheard the little boy saying he was feeling uncomfortable all over and was starting to break out in hives (荨麻疹) . That was when I was shocked by the terrible realization — I forgot to tell the chef not to put pepper in the dishes!

I immediately dropped what I was doing to apologise and offer help.

Unexpectedly, the father came to our restaurant the next day, letter in hand.

On warm September night, on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, soft sea winds filled the air. The moon was full. Mira could feel the energy in the air. She loved everything about the ocean, and this evening she had come down to the beach to enjoy the salty night air and hear the waves washing over the sand gently.

Mira closed her eyes and listened to the waves. The gentle rolling sound was calming. Suddenly, Mira could hear another sound, too. She listened carefully. The sound was so soft that she could barely hear it. She opened her eyes and looked down at the sand. It was moving! All of a sudden, she could see a tiny head coming out. Then, she saw four tiny feet and a shell. A turtle had emerged!

Mira looked in amazement at the baby turtle. In the moonlight she could just make out the green and brown pattern on its shell. It was so small! She watched with wonder as other baby turtles began to emerge. One by one they struggled out of their underground nests. Soon the beach was like a moving carpet of tiny turtles.

Mira knew the turtles should head towards the waves and swim away, so she was puzzled when they began to pull themselves in the opposite direction. Why would the turtles be going away from the ocean?

Suddenly, she remembered something she had heard from some people living here. “Loggerhead sea turtles come back here every year in April. They bury their eggs on the beach and in the first week of September those baby turtles hatch and head back down to the sea. But some of them never make it. Sometimes they die going across the beach, trying to find those bright lights in the houses. The lights confuse the sea turtles.”

Mira looked across the beach at her house.

Upon arrival, she shouted, “The turtles are hatching! We have to help them!”

In the morning, I got up early and prepared for the everyday jogging. The sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, casting a warm glow over my bedroom. The air was fresh and crisp, filled with the promise of a new day.

I quickly dressed in my running gear, grabbed my water bottle, and stepped out into the quiet street. The neighborhood was still mostly asleep, except for a few early birds like me. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the invigorating air, and began my usual route.

The jogging path was familiar to me, and I knew every curve and bump in the road. As I ran, I let my mind wander, thinking about the day ahead and the tasks that awaited me. My steps were steady and rhythmic, like a metronome (节拍器) keeping time with my thoughts.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the neighborhood began to wake up. I could hear the sounds of morning routines starting up—the squeak of a door hinge, the clang of a pot on a stove, the cheerful chatter of neighbors greeting each other. These sounds were a comforting backdrop to my jog, adding a sense of normality and routine to the start of my day.

After about thirty minutes, I reached the end of my route and turned back towards home. My legs were starting to feel the burn when a lovely puppy suddenly came into my sight. The puppy was nobody but my neighbor grandma’s little dog. It seemed to have escaped from its yard. Its big, brown eyes sparkled with curiosity as it approached me, sniffing at my shoes and licking my hand, as if to say “jogging is fun, isn’t it?”. I couldn’t help but smile at the little bundle of joy, and I knelt down to pet it. “Who’s a good boy?” I asked, scratching behind its ears. The puppy responded with a happy yip and a lick to my cheek.

I knew I couldn’t leave it alone on the street.

Eventually, we arrived at the yard.

Anmol and Rohan were grade six students. They had been the best friends since childhood. They would sit on the same bench, eat together and play together at school.

One day, a new student named Sumit joined their class. During the break Anmol and Sumit got talking and Anmol gladly found Sumit had a passion for chess. Anmol was crazy about chess but he rarely got a good opponent.

Anmol and Sumit started spending more and more time together. Earlier, Rohan and Anmol used to play table tennis during lunch break. But now Anmol never seemed interested. Gradually Rohan started feeling left out. He felt worried and upset at the thought of losing his best friend,   but he was at a loss what to do.

One day, Rohan urged Anmol to join him in a table tennis game.“Not today, Rohan, I have to complete yesterday’s chess game. Sumit has cornered me quite badly but I am not going to give in, ”Anmol said, not noticing the hurt expression on Rohan’s face.

“Sumit, Sumit! Now you have nobody but Sumit in your heart! You have completely forgotten our friendship!” yelled Rohan. Then he turned around and walked straight away.

After that Rohan stopped talking to Anmol and even changed his place in the class. Though he was heartbroken to lose his best friend, he believed that it was Anmol who was to blame. A couple of times Anmol tried talking to Rohan, but Rohan simply looked through him.

About a month later, Rohan participated in the campus cross-country race. It was in its last phase. All that remained was the final lap inside the stadium.Rohan was in third place, with Peter and Iqbal, the former champions, ahead of him.

The stadium was packed, and the students, were all cheering their favorites wildly.“Come on, Iqbal, you are always the best!”.

“Peter, move.You can beat Iqbal!”

“Hold on, Rohan, just another 200 meters to go!” The cries were deafening.

When they reached the last hundred meters, Rohan was almost out of breath.He dragged himself along, with his face red and his mouth dry.

Just then Rohan heard a familiar voice from his left side.

As Rohan was the first to cross the finishing line, he collapsed on the ground.

9 . My father hated cats. Or so he told me when I begged for one as a child. Whenever I insisted, he would list all their bad traits: cats were lazy, they ripped up furniture, and they required too much care. The list went on. However, despite his warnings, my desire for a cat never faded.

After I graduated from university, I became a volunteer at an animal rescue center. This experience had a significant impact on me. I learned to tend to injured animals and saw firsthand how kindness and care could aid in their recovery. But I also realized that animals could provide emotional healing to humans too. This belief stayed with me.

A few years later, my father was diagnosed with kidney disease and began dialysis (透析). The news hit him hard. Overnight, he seemed to age years, the spark in his eyes dimming. His once cheerful nature turned into a look of sadness and acceptance of his fate. The future seemed hopeless, and our home was filled with a sense of sadness and despair.

In an effort to bring some joy and distraction into our home, I often told my father stories about the animals I encountered at the rescue center. At first, he was indifferent, but gradually, he seemed to look forward to hearing them. One story, in particular, touched his heart. It was about a large, Maine-coon-type cat found by firefighters. Its long orange fur was tangled and burnt from the wildfires in Alaska. Barely alive, it purred when touched despite its pain. The fire had claimed its back feet and all its front toes. The vet (兽医) doubted it would survive.

But the cat was a fighter. Named Bumpus, he faced his challenges head-on. Despite his severe injuries, he worked hard to walk again. To everyone’s amazement, he succeeded. Bumpus’s spirit made him a favorite among the volunteers. His determination and strength inspired us all. Through these stories, my father came to understand the incredible power of persistence and healing in animals. As my father listened to more stories about the animals at the rescue center, he began to change.

I felt it was time to bring up my childhood wish again, but this time, it had a deeper meaning.

In the following weeks, my father, as I had taught him, attentively looked after Bumpus at home.

That year, I was 16 years old and my father had just passed away in that cold late autumn. There were no Thanksgiving celebrating plans in my family that year. To make ends meet, my mother worked two jobs as a cleaning lady, and I had a part-time job in the downtown. It was the Thanksgiving night and it was raining and blowing. The shops were closed and the streets were decorated with the colorful lamps for the grant festival. My shift at work was over and I waited for the bus alone in the station.

The wind blew my thin coat and threatened to tear my worn-out hand-knit hat that my mother had knitted for me years ago. Wearing a pair of discolored pants, I shivered against the cold wind, deep in thought about how my father’s death led to my family heart broken and how my mother and I struggled to work to support our family.

A bus approached as I thought these things. Fortunately, a seat on the bus was unoccupied and I took it with delight, placing my feet on the perfect spot close to the heater. I cherished the small comfort of the warmth as it seeped (渗透) through the bottom of my wet feet.

Then a gentleman, perhaps in his 60s, appeared from somewhere in the back of the bus. He wore a hat and a fine woolen scarf. Then he stopped and sat down next to me, placing a shopping bag between us. Through the transparent shopping bag under my nose, I vaguely saw a box with chocolate printed on it, a box with a music box printed on it, and a clothing-type thing. These must be the gifts for a certain girl and I also wished to get such gifts. When he noticed my stare, I looked away immediately and curled up to keep warm, or rather, to hide my embarrassment.

Then the gentleman took the initiative to break the silence and started talking to me.

He was nearly off the bus when suddenly I found he forgot his shopping bag.