In 2018, 17-year-old Hemesh spent a life-changing summer with his grandmother Anne, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Witnessing the impact of the disease firsthand, Hemesh was awakened to the seriousness of the situation.

One night, Hemesh walked into the kitchen only to discover that his grandmother had left the gas stove (炉) on after making tea. Shocked by the dangerous consequences Alzheimer’s disease could bring about, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.

Hemesh’s worries increased as he observed his grandmother’s behavior. She would wake up in the early hours of the morning, believing she was on a train, and wander outside aimlessly. This wandering tendency could potentially lead her to get lost or put herself in risky situations.

Determined to make a difference, Hemesh engaged himself in extensive research about Alzheimer’s disease and its symptomatic (症状的) progression. Through his studies, he discovered that wandering was a common problem among dementia patients, especially those with Alzheimer’s disease.

Inspired by his newfound knowledge and fueled by his desire to help, Hemesh told his family, “I can’t just stand by and watch this happen. I need to do something to keep Grandma safe. I think I have an idea that might help not just her, but others in similar situations.”

With firm determination, he developed an inventive answer to the wandering dilemma, a device he called the Guardian Companion. It was a wearable device, similar to a smartwatch, specifically designed for Alzheimer’s patients. It integrated advanced GPS technology and a panic button to assist those who tended to wander, ensuring their safety and well-being. After the device got its official approval, Hemesh happily went to try it on for his grandmother.

As Anne put on the Guardian Companion, Hemesh explained how it worked.

In the next few weeks, the device made a difference to Anne and her family.

Leo and Alex were close friends. They had been friends since childhood, sharing countless memories, and growing up side by side. They were as close as siblings, sharing countless happy moments and supporting each other through thick and thin. However, one fateful day, a misunderstanding tore them apart, leaving their friendship in shreds.

Leo was a die-hard fan of the local football team, the Metropolis Eagles, while Alex was passionate about the city’s rival team, the Metrostars. Their differing loyalties often led to lively debates and friendly jokes, but it never affected their friendship. Until one fateful game day.

The Metropolis Eagles were playing against the Metrostars, and Leo and Alex were both determined to watch the game together. However, when the game got intense and the score was tied, Leo’s and Alex’s passions boiled over. Leo accused Alex of favoring the other team, while Alex felt Leo was being unreasonably stubborn. The argument escalated (升级) quickly, and words were exchanged that neither of them would soon forget. “You’ve gone too far. I don’t want to see you again,” thundered Leo. Both friends were left feeling hurt and disappointed.

The next day, there were heated discussions about the game, but Leo and Alex avoided each other like the plague (瘟疫). Leo deeply regretted what he had said and wanted to apologize, but pride got in the way. Weeks passed, and the silence between them grew deafening.

One day, while walking home from school, Leo came across a lost dog. He couldn’t help but notice the collar around the dog’s neck, with a tag that read “Alex’s Best Friend.” Leo realized this dog was Alex’s.

When he was around 5-6 years old, my brother Ted, who is four years younger to me, suddenly found his legs unable to move one night. What followed was one of the hardest times of my parents'life. Months passed with them meeting various doctors, visiting different hospitals, and knocking at the doorstep of every possible chance — all the time with Ted in their arms, since he wasn't able to walk on his own anymore.

There were doubts of permanent paralysis（瘫痪）— the very mention of which was enough to break us down. From finding it extremely painful to walk, to not being able to get up on his own, and to not being able to stand at all, Ted's problem was worsening day by day. Most surprisingly, all this while, he was as strong as, perhaps, only children can be in such difficult times.

During this period, it was not unusual for my mother to have sudden breakdowns. Once, she burst into tears while watching Ted playing joyfully. He wiped off her tears, and said, “Don't cry, mummy. See, I can stand and even run on my own!” Saying this, he tried to get up, stood on shaking legs for just about a few microseconds and fell down, only to be safely caught in the arms of my mom, who hugged him dearly and cried some more.

This was the most heart-breaking thing that I had ever experienced. But it was also a powerful one for the simple fact that it was my little brother who taught us what life was all about—HOPE.

Witnessing my brother's strong will and positive attitude inspired me as well. As a brother, I could not stand by doing nothing at all. Hope was burning in my heart when I had the idea to train my brother to walk again. I firmly believe Ted could stand up and walk as he used to. Whenever school was over, I would put Ted into a pushchair and tell my mom that we'd just go to the park.

In the park, I would put Ted one meter away from me, encouraging him to walk.

We agreed to keep this a secret from our parents until mom's birthday.

Jack and Dane were great friends. Every evening they played together. They studied in the same class in the same school. They were good students.

One evening, Jack and Dane were playing with a ball. After a while, Jack said, “I am so bored. Shall we go for fishing in the river?” “That is a great idea.” replied Dane.

Jack called out to his mother, “Mama, we are going fishing in the river, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack’s mother said, “but be careful not to get into the water. Your father said there are crocodiles in the river.”

Both the children said that they would not get into the river. They gathered their fishing lines with the hooks (钩), and a can full of fish food. They headed to the river, and soon began fishing.

However, even after a long time, they did not get any fish. They began to feel bored again. “This river looks not so deep. Why does mother say not to swim here?” asked Jack.

“Remember, your mother said there are crocodiles here.” said Dane.

“Well, I don’t find any.” said Jack.

Dane was quiet for a while. Finally he asked, “Do you think we can swim?”

Jack jumped up and shouted excitedly, “Yes, let us swim. Come on, dive.”

The two friends dove in, and splashed (泼水) around happily. They found some logs of wood floating on the river, and tried floating with them. It was then that something unexpected happened.

Dane was playing with a log of wood, and suddenly, the log was caught in a strong current (水流), and he was hit in the head. He became unconscious immediately.

Jack saw what happened, and he swam fast to his friend’s rescue.

Suddenly, a loud splash was heard.

Beth was in hospital with viral pneumonia (肺炎). She felt down and she missed her parents terribly, who were far away in Europe on business. She lay in her bed crying when one nurse came in and recognized her sadness and loneliness. The nurse looked at the pale little girl worriedly, knowing that one of the greatest setbacks to recovery is often depression. Like the rest of the medical staff, she was overworked and couldn’t sit and keep Beth company all the time. Then she had a brilliant idea! Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone! Just at the end of the corridor (走廊), she had a patient who was just as lonely as Beth...

The nurse walked into Georgiana Halston’s room and smiled, “Didn’t you tell me you have a granddaughter, Mrs Halston?” Georgiana, who was lying on the bed and looking listlessly (没精打采地) out of the window, sighed. “Yes. I have a 7-year-old granddaughter, but she is in Canada. And she hardly calls me, because I don’t know what she like and she think it boring to chat with me.”

“Well,” the nurse said. “I have a 7-year-old down the corridor who is very lonely and needs a friend. I wonder if you could cheer her up a bit and be that friend?”

“But my leg hurts,” Georgiana said. “I can’t walk. You know that.”

“I know that your doctor want you out of bed and to walk around,” the nurse retorted. “If you don’t move, you’ll end up bedridden!”

Georgiana had been diagnosed with a form of bone disease and got a big operation. She was still in bed, but she should be up to exercise her leg. However, the truth is that she was afraid her leg would suffer terrible pain. After the nurse left, Georgiana lay on her bed for a long time, feeling sad for herself. Georgiana looked at the walker next to her bed and sighed. The matter of the lonely little girl haunted her.

Then Georgiana picked her walker and headed for the girl’s room.

A while later, the nurse appeared in Beth’s room.

I was in 6th grade, and I had a good friend named Stacey. We were not only in the same class but also shared a common love for learning and exploring. What’s more, Stacey and I even carried our own backpacks of the same style to spend our leisure time together, reading in the school library, singing under the tree and enjoying the beautiful sunshine in autumn.

One day, Stacey came to school with a new backpack, and I noticed three letters embroidered (刺绣) on it: SEK. I asked her what they meant.

“They are, of course, the first letters of my first name, my middle name, and my last name,” she explained proudly, “when I grow up, I might use my middle name instead of ‘Stacey’ and become ‘Elizabeth,’ or ‘Liz,’ or ‘Betsy’. The possibilities (可能性) made me very excited and each name seemed like a gateway to a different world.” I was a little jealous to hear that. Why didn’t I have a middle name.

For the first time, I thought about my own name: Claudine Gay. I thought about it for the rest of the day， and my confusion and resentment (怨恨) grew as I thought of the space between Claudine and Gay-the space where my parents had failed to give me a middle name. And I imagined all of the futures that were now out of reach as a consequence. I couldn’t see any possibility of myself.

Although I was just 11 years old at that time, I suddenly felt very painful that I was insufficient (缺失的). I felt as if everyone around me knew exactly what was going on.

I was not happy with my parents. When I faced them directly that evening, demanding to know why I did not have a middle name, they explained that each of them had given me half of my name. My mother, Claudette, gave me Claudine. My father, Sony, gave me Gay. They said calmly, “you are Claudine Gay. Your name is enough!”

Hearing what they said, I still thought it unacceptable.

“Claudine, why are there only two letters CG?” asked Stacey, pointing at the embroidery on my backpack the next day.