2 . A friend and I were having lunch and I asked about her son who was getting professional help for some behavioral problems he was having. Our conversation went like this: “There’s a good change in his attitude. He’s staying out of trouble, but I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” she said. “It’s hard to trust him yet. He is doing things that he’s never done before, which is great. But I still need to supervise him just in case.”

I asked a couple of questions: “Have you told him how proud you are of how far he’s come? Have you thanked him for the things he’s now doing but never did in the past?” She said no. And because she’s a very bright woman she followed it up with: “I really need to say those things because I am proud of him and I am grateful for what he’s doing now. All I keep doing is looking at what he’s still doing wrong and getting on him about that. How’s he ever going to feel good about himself and continue to improve if I don’t acknowledge him for all his improvements and growth?”

“If I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, it will!” I just smiled and told her I loved her and that she’s a great mom. The conversation moved on to a new topic. It’s worth taking a look at your close relationships, especially with your kids and asking yourself: Do I spend too much time letting them know what they’re doing wrong? Do I ignore their efforts toward positive change? Do I still find ways to be unsatisfied with their behavior?

If you answer yes to any of those questions, you’re now the one who needs to do some changing. Never forget that people love to be acknowledged — not just for the big things but the little things, too. Appreciation and love are the driving force that keeps them wanting to do well and do something nice for others.

5 . Many of our family traditions centered around food. We’d gather in the kitchen for every birthday and holiday and enjoy delicious food. My grandparents always held Christmas dinner, which included chicken cacciatore, sausage, meatballs and salad. But right before we sat down to eat, my grandmother would pull me aside to show me the dish she made just for me: fresh pasta (意大利面) with tomato sauce.

It was a simple dish, but to me it was warm food that filled me with happiness. But more than that, it made me feel like I belonged. I was a shy kid and, in many situations, I felt ignored. And here was my grandmother, showing me that I mattered.

Years went by; I moved away and got married. I’d visit throughout the years and my grandmother would serve up a plate of pasta.

When my daughter was born in 2020, for the first time in my life I wasn’t about to make the trip back home for Christmas. I cooked my family’s traditional foods and my husband and I had a big meal that included, of course, fresh pasta. I had a video call with my grandmother and showed her the pasta. Shortly after the holidays she passed away unexpectedly.

It seemed so unfair that my grandmother passed away soon after I became a parent. I’d hold my daughter and think about how I could tell her what an amazing great-grandmother she had.

In my sadness I came to an answer: food. Late at night after my daughter had gone to bed, I’d go to the kitchen and learn how to make fresh pasta, cooking my grandmother’s recipes. Before long I started experimenting, making a bit changes to classic recipes. When my daughter got a little older, I began making special dishes for her with my grandmother’s flavors in mind.

I know that no matter how hard I try, my daughter will never have a bowl pasta with sauce exactly like the ones my grandmother would make for me. While that makes me sad, she’ll still get to have my pasta sauce. I know there’re two things she’ll never lack for in this life: pasta and love.

It must seem a little odd to get a letter from your own mother whom you see every day, but I hope you will read this and take what I have to say seriously.

I bought you a phone for your 12th birthday because you wanted one so much, and all your friends have one. I know you love your phone, but I wonder whether you are aware of just how much you use it.

From my perspective, it seems that you are constantly checking your phone for notifications (通知) or messages. You even do this when we’re having a family meal in a restaurant or when I’m talking to you. You may not realise this, but whenever you feel even slightly bored, you check your phone. You never seem to relax. You’re constantly on alert, and I don’t think this is very good for you. We all need to switch it off every now and then. And if I ask you to leave your phone at home when we go out, you sulk (生气) and get twitchy, almost as if you’re suffering withdrawal symptoms (戒断症状). It’s like your phone is a drug.

I have tried to talk to you about this, but whenever I ask you to put down your phone and look at me, you say “in a minute”. Unfortunately, “in a minute” never comes, and we never talk. I can’t actually remember the last time we had a proper face-to-face conversation. I even have to message you to let you know dinner is on the table! That’s why I decided to put my concerns in a letter to you.

Please don’t think I am writing this letter to punish you or to nag (唠叨) you. I know you are a good boy. I don’t think you want to hurt me or be rude intentionally. However, I recently heard about something called “nomophobia”—the fear of being without a phone. It’s a real illness and I’m worried whether you have it. I really think it would be a good idea if we all went to see an addiction expert together so we can all have a discussion about this serious problem. I know you won’t want to, but I’m very concerned about you. Please take some time to think about what I have written. Then let’s talk.

Mum,

8 . It was never a question whether or not my mother loved me. However, I’m not _______ about my father’s love. There are _______ of us laughing together, with me in diapers(尿不湿). Also I’ve watched recordings of my older sister and me _______ in turns for my father to lift us into the air—all three of us scream with _______. And when I search my own childhood for _______ of my father’s love, there is one impressive memory I can name.

At some point during my first year of school, I peed(小便) my pants _______. I was sent to the office for a(n) _______ of clothes, and for the rest of the day, I wore a pair of over-large, bright orange sweatpants. I _______ exactly how the teacher and the other students looked at me, but they were the least of my _______.

I was in terror __________ of showing up at home with different pants. All afternoon I planned how I would enter the house and run to my room __________ my father even noticed I was there. I rehearsed(默默练习) again and again __________ I had in mind that would allow me to __________ my father’s anger.

I carefully planned to avoid his notice, __________ at the front door to check for my father. When he yelled out “Hello?”, I promptly(迅速地) got into the coat closet and hid there until my dad found me in the __________ pants, and I had no choice but to tell him the truth.

Then my father did something very kind but __________. He reached out for me and gently patted my head; he took the __________ pants and put them in the laundry and said it was Okay. And that was it! As I remember that moment, I want to scream through the hallway of __________: “That’s it! Look! He loves you!” I want to reach toward the little girl __________ down at her feet, who is afraid to meet her father’s eyes. I want to raise her head to __________ her eyes and know it is okay to be loved.