My great-grandmother Eileen is fierce, loyal and strong and a bit of a legend in her own lifetime, which now stretches to 92 years. I should add that we’re not allowed to call her Gran, because she says it makes her feel old.

That summer, I lost my job and felt hopeless. One day, I paid a visit to her. She picked up a box which she placed on the coffee table. “There you go,” she said. “You do know what you’re doing with these things, don’t you?”

It was a new phone. Her current mobile was pretty ancient. I was amazed it was still going.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. That’s why I ask you. You young people know more about such things than us oldies. You can take it home with you and get it all set up,” she went on. “Then, when you bring it back, you can show me how to use my new phone, such as getting on the internet, sending e-mails and so on.” She smiled so sweetly that I felt a surge of love for her.

I grabbed the box and stood up. Setting up the phone would be easy. It was teaching her how to use it that may prove challenging.

The following day I headed back to my great-grandmother’s with the phone. “Here’s your phone. It’s all ready to use.”

For the next hour, I was busy setting up her passcode and fingerprint recognition, which she said was like something out of James Bond.

She chose a picture for her screen and it was all going so well until I tried to show her how to swipe (滑动屏幕). “What do you mean, swipe?” she asked. She was 92, I reminded myself. This had been tiring for her.

She pressed at the up arrow and got angry when nothing happened. When I finally got her to swipe, she didn’t put the right amount of pressure on and the menu slipped away. After what seemed like hours, she threw the phone across the room and it landed on the sofa. “Take it away!” she howled. “I want my old phone back!”

I picked up the phone and was about to leave to give her time to cool down when I realized I didn’t want to go home when she was angry and upset.

“Come on, Eileen. One more try.” I said.

I was not feeling so hopeless any more now.

Oh no. Coach Cafferty just said my name. For that event. The two-hundred-metre breaststroke (蛙泳) for the coming meet! Not the backstroke (仰泳) I had wished and practiced for so long!

Beads of sweat popped out over my upper lip. Morgan pressed her elbow into my side, trying to offer me moral support. But it didn’t help. My stomach sank to my knees like a brick in water. Morgan tried to convince me it would be fine. “Maybe Coach has more confidence in you than you think. Or maybe Coach Cafferty just want to give the rest a laugh when I sink to the bottom of the pool,” I thought desperately. I walked towards Coach Cafferty and told her about my inability and my desire to quit this event. She frowned and asked if it was what I really wanted.

I hesitated. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she started smiling and encouraged me to push myself outside of my comfort zone.

The first practice was a disaster. I lost rhythm on my strokes. I messed up my turns. I even had to stop and catch my breath a few times. I felt everyone was laughing at me and my stomach twisted. How could I make it within just two weeks? But once I dragged myself out of the water, exhausted and frustrated, Coach Cafferty thumbed up to me, saying I did really well and just needed more confidence in myself and more time to practice.

On the way back home, Morgan comforted me, “Dear, just ignore others. Race against yourself. Count your own strokes. Prove to yourself that you can do it.” With these words said to me almost every day, before or after each practice, something gradually changed: both how I swam the breaststroke and how I felt about the event as well as myself.

The meet finally came. I arrived at the pool hall, still a little bit worried. As each event clicked closer to mine, my knees shook. I bit my lip and looked out over the other swimmers. Morgan leaned forward. “Just swim your race. Remember, you can!”

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Then the two-hundred-milestone breaststroke was announced.

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There was only 50 meters to go.

When we are little kids, birthday parties are momentous occasions. They are our time to shine, and we love everything about them: the balloons, the games, the cake, the gifts, and so on.

After reading cool stories about police officers solving mysteries, Allen Miller thought the police were awesome, hoping to become one of them! So, when he had to choose a theme for his seventh birthday party—he went with his favorite: the police! And all he wanted for his birthday party was a model police car. He excitedly invited some of his friends and anxiously awaited the day. Unfortunately, none of them could make it to the party due to various reasons,

Allen’s mom Rachel wrestled with the challenging decision: should she cancel the party and save Allen the embarrassment of an empty party room? He had been looking forward to the party and talking about it daily, so it would break his heart to cancel it.

Officer Frank Smith, who had already planned with Rachel and agreed to show up at the party, heard from Rachel that it might be canceled due to low attendance. That’s when he decided to save the day—he is a police officer after all! His duty is to serve and protect, and he decided to protect Allen from having a bad day, and serve him the most amazing seventh birthday party! Officer Smith got the whole local police to join in. “We like to be involved in our community. It’s not just about enforcing (执行) the law. We like to be there in the good times as well,” he explained to Rachel.

On the day of Allen’s party, Officer Smith picked up Rachel and Allen in his police car. The boy didn’t know where they were going, but was excited. They stopped at Town Hall, and officer Smith led them into the meeting room where a group of policemen were waiting to wish Allen a happy birthday.

There, a party was waiting for him.

After they enjoyed the cake, Officer Smith took out a gift bag.

Undoubtedly, Mother Nature is always attractive to kids. In our childhood, how often did we turn a deaf ear to our parents’ advice? Very often! Thus, we landed ourselves in a situation where we greatly regretted our act of not having listened to the advice of the wise.

Such an unforgettable experience I had at the age of 7 gave me an invaluable lesson, after which I deeply understood why my gentle mother was repeating the boring suggestions and I would try to take her suggestions seriously.

In my childhood, I was so crazy about nature that even playing among the colorful flowers in our garden could make my day. Our house was next to the woods which had always stirred up(激起) great curiosity in me in wanting to find out what was within. Every time I saw fascinating butterflies dancing from the woods, my curiosity grew.

But my mother didn’t like me wandering off on my own and always ensured that I was within her sight. Even if she allowed me to explore the surrounding area on my own, it was only to be somewhere near the house. Being as curious as the cat, I always desired to explore the woods. It seemed as if my mother had understood my desire, so she had warmed me on lots of occasions never to enter the woods alone.

“Mom, can I go out and play in the garden?” I asked.

“Sure,” she would reply each time. “Kate, you can play in the garden but you must promise me one thing—only when I’m with you can you go into the woods. There are no cases of animal attacks on humans, but it’s still dangerous for a little kid like you. It’s too easy to get lost in the woods.”

“Sure, you’ve said that many times!” I answered without patience at her repeated reminders.

However, curiosity got the better of me one morning.

“Kate?” Behind the trees covered by the rays of the setting sun came my mother’s voice.

“Mommy, can we get some cupcakes for my birthday? Please!”4-year-old Norah said. I hesitated about going to the grocery store on a Tuesday, Senior Citizen Discount Day. We had already celebrated Norah’s big day. Her two elder sisters were also born in September, so we had one big celebration for all of them. But today was Norah’s actual birthday. How could I say no? ”Okay,“ I said，thinking of the seniors who would crowd the aisles (过道) in the store.“But we have to be quick.

At the store I put Norah in one of the carts shaped like a car and did my best to move it to the bakery quickly. I picked up a package of cupcakes, swung to the other part of the store for birthday balloons and then got distracted by salad dressings.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Norah standing up in the cart waving excitedly. “Hi, old person! It’s my birthday today, ” she said cheerfully.

An elderly man in his 80s stared at us stone-faced. Before I could explain that “old person” isn’t exactly the best way to address someone, the man had already opened his mouth to reply to her. “Well, hello, little lady, ”he said.“How old are you today?”

“I’m four, ”Norah said, holding up her fingers. Then we chatted briefly, long enough for him to tell me that he was Dan and that he usually tried to avoid the grocery store on Senior Citizen Discount Day as well.

We went our separate ways. Several minutes later, Norah asked, “Can I take a photo with the old man for my birthday?” I felt kind of strange about asking a complete stranger to take a photo with this kid who had just called him “old person”.

“Let’s see if we can,” I said. We went back and spotted Mr. Dan by the dairy section. “There he is!” Norah pointed. His hair was uncombed(乱的), and he was dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and sneakers.

“Ask him, Mommy!” Norah said.

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask, honey, ”I told Norah, and then approached the old man.

“Excuse me,Mr.Dan,”I said.

“My wife passed away months ago,”Dan explained.

On a mid-September afternoon, Sista and Rafi were racing each other on the mountainside. The girls laughed wildly and stopped for a rest in the shade of a tree.

“Now, I’m hungry,” Sista said. “Yeah. I could really go for a jobo. I love the sweet-and-sour taste!” Rafi said, licking her lips. “I know where there’s a great jobo tree,” Sista said. “It belongs to that lady who lives in the little house by the hill. I heard she’s severe, but sometimes she gives fruit in return for an errand (差事).” They decided to give it a shot.

Raf’s heart pounded as Sista knocked on the door. An elderly woman answered. “Yes?” the lady asked, squinting (眯着眼看) at the girls. Rafi gasped, unable to speak. “We heard ...” said Sista, her voice shaky, “that you give jobos in payment for running an errand.” The lady raised one eyebrow. “Ah, yes. Payment.” She clicked her tongue. “Nothing is free, eh?”

The lady led the girls into kitchen, where the smell of warm bread filled the air. She grabbed two baskets, one large and one small, “Go fill these with jobos. Come right back.”

The girls raced up the hill to the tree and picked the ripest jobos. The moment they returned to the house, the lady handed them a bag filled with warm bread. “Take this bag and the large basket of jobos to the Gomez family. Do you know them?” The girls nodded. “Good. And ask them for the payment. Mrs. Gomez will place it in a large envelope,” the lady added, warning that if they returned without the envelope of payment, they wouldn’t get the jobos.

Wrestling with the heavy bag and basket along the way, the girls finally arrived at the Gomez home, sweating. Mrs. Gomez answered the door. Walking inside, Rafi saw colorful drawings lying everywhere. The three little Gomez kids were still busy with more pictures, pure smiles on their cute faces. “This is from the lady with the jobo tree,” Sista held up the food. Mrs. Gomez cried, “Thank you. My husband is still sick in bed. Times are hard.”

“But she said to ask you for the payment too,” Rafi said with her eyes dropped.

Back at the farmhouse, the girls handed the lady the large sealed envelope.

I was confident at the audition (试演) for the school play and felt pleased to get a role. It just felt good to be in the play, even if I had only four or five lines. I worked hard at perfecting those lines. I repeated them over and over again. I put in the emphases and intonations (语调) that my drama teacher had suggested and, because I was on stage much longer than for just four or five lines, I had many actions to rehearse (排练) and perform. “Do them in front of a mirror,” my drama teacher had advised me. “Watch how you look; practice and rehearse as often as you can.” I did just that. I worked and worked at it. It was fun and exciting rehearsing.

Then finally the big night came. Suddenly, things felt different. The theater was full of people. As I dressed, I could hear the chatting and noises of the audience. I looked around at the other more experienced actors and saw that their previous confidence seemed to have disappeared. Had they got their makeup right? Was the costume done up correctly? What if they forgot their lines? The more people talked about their anxiety, the more nervous everyone became. The worries spread from person to another—like a baton (接力棒) being passed in a relay race—until the whole of the backstage area seemed to be full of tension and worry.

I was on stage early, at first performing my non-spoken role in the background with several other guys around the same age. When, suddenly, I heard my cue (出场提示), the lights were bright in my eyes, I couldn’t see the audience but knew there were hundreds of people out there all watching me. The words that had flowed so easily when I stood in front of a mirror didn’t want to come, and when they did I found myself hurrying into them. I tried to slow down my thoughts and my words.

But I suddenly realized I had missed a sentence.

I bowed to the audience excitedly and went back to my drama teacher.

Green Thumb

All I did was show my little sister how to grow plants. Dig a hole. Put in a seed. Cover it with dirt. Water it. Wait. “See, Laynie,” I explained, “a whole plant will grow from this tiny seed. All we have to do is water it.”

Laynie had her own watering can so she could “help” me in the garden. One day, after everything was watered, she ran to the fence and started sprinkling water on another spot. I walked over and saw a fresh patch of dirt near the fence.

“Did you plant something there?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m growing a pencil. My purple pencil got too small, so I planted it.”

“What? But, Laynie—”

I should have explained things right then, but I just muttered, “Uh…I never grew one before.”

Later I got what seemed like a great idea. I dug up Laynie’s pencil and “planted” a brand-new purple pencil. Laynie was really excited when she saw it. “My pencil grew!” she shouted.

A few days later, Laynie was watering on the same spot. Two days later, new crayons sticking their pointy little heads out, thanks to me. Laynie jumped up and down and yelled, “They look like flowers!” She “picked” them and ran into the house.

Next, Laynie grew an adult bear doll from a tiny one, a soup spoon from a teaspoon, and a hand mirror from a piece of glass. When she claimed that she had grown these things, I just kept my mouth shut! Actually, it was fun trying to think of what should grow from Laynie’s seeds. And it was cool to see her get excited.

One day I saw her patting down some dirt near the fence again, so I knew she’d just planted something. My heart dropped to my feet when she asked, “How long does it take to grow a goldfish, Brad?” I couldn’t speak.

“Not long, I bet!” said Laynie. She knelt down to whisper “Grow, Molly. Grow!” before she skipped back to the house.

I sat down with my back to the fence and thought for a long time.

Later I found Laynie sitting by the spot where Molly was buried.