I pressed my fist into Dad’s old baseball glove as I stared out of the window of my stepfather’s van. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about Dad and how much I missed him.

The van stopped at the edge of the baseball field. “Hey, buddy, have fun at practice. And don’t forget about your sister’s recital (表演) tonight,” said my stepfather as I climbed out.

Zoe is not my sister, and you can’t tell me what to do, I grumbled (嘟囔) to myself.

A bunch of guys from the team waved from the dugout. I jogged over half-heartedly. “Why do you look so unhappy?” David asked. “I have to go to my stepsister’s dance recital,” I sighed. “It could be worse,” David replied. I shot him an I-highly-doubt-that expression. “What if you had to perform in it?” Kevin said as he leaped and twirled (旋转) like a rodeo bull. I tried not to smile.

The truth was that I had a lot of mixed-up feelings since Mom remarried a few months ago. I had always loved baseball, but even that felt different lately. I could barely concentrate.

After practice, David and I sat together waiting for our ride. “I wish things didn’t have to change,” I said, “you know, for my mom and me.” “I have a stepmother and stepbrother too,” David said as if it were no big deal. “Seriously?” I hadn’t realized that, so I asked. David shrugged, “They’re just Mom and Dennis now. Give it a chance.” I let out a breath, still unsure about the recital tonight. Still unsure about everything!

Back home, I found Zoe in her costume, but something was wrong. Her arms were folded tight across her chest, and her eyes were glossed with tears. “What’s wrong, Zoe?” I asked. “Opening night jitters (战战兢兢),” my stepfather said. “She doesn’t want to be in the recital,” Mom said.

Huh. This should have been the best thing that could have happened — the possibility of not having to go to the performance. But somehow it wasn’t. Zoe had practiced so hard. And she’d reminded me at least a thousand times where she would be onstage.

Thinking of Kevin’s funny dance, I had an idea.

After Zoe disappeared into dancers backstage, we found our seats.

A Birthday Surprise

I stood at the kitchen window watching Papa as he sat in the old, wooden lawn chair staring out at the lake. Ralph, his old black dog, lay on the ground at his side. Papa’s hand absently stroked (抚摩) the head of his old companion as they dreamed the dreams of old men and old dogs in the evening sun. “He does this day after day?” I asked Mama.

She nodded, sadness filling her eyes. “I don’t know what to do for him. There is a strong desire in his eyes that I can’t satisfy -a desire for the past. The past can’t be brought back to the present. Once days are gone, they are gone forever,” Mama sighed.

“I’m going down to talk to him,” I said.

I called out to Papa and handed him a cup of coffee. “What are you and Ralph thinking about all these hours you spend out here?” I asked,

“We’re not thinking,” he said softly. “We’re wishing.” I sat on the grass beside his chair. “Wishing for what?” “For the impossible, I suppose,” he sighed. “You always told me that nothing was impossible if you wanted it badly enough and were willing to work hard for it,” I reminded him.

He laughed softly, but there was no amusement in the sound. “But Ralph and I have come to learn that when you reach our age, some things are actually impossible.” “Maybe I can help you. What do you want so badly?” I asked.

Papa grinned (咧嘴大笑), and his eyes shone brightly at the thought of his dream becoming a reality. “Ralph and I want to fix up the old boat and go out on the lake again. We used to spend all day out on the lake, fishing, drinking beer and eating sandwiches,” Papa said.

Yes, I remember. When I was young, Papa and Ralph often enjoyed themselves on the lake on weekends. They’d start for home when the sun went down, totally satisfied with themselves and with life. Now, Papa was almost eighty-five years old and had a heart condition, so Mama was horrified by the idea of him going out on the lake again at first. But eventually I managed to convince her.

After Mama agreed, I persuaded my friends to join in my secret plan.

On the day of Papa’s birthday, we were all eager to give him a surprise.

In the town of Willowbrook, young Sarah was in a state of great excitement. Her school was putting on its annual play, and she had been offered a principal role. The school hall had been abuzz for weeks with rehearsals, prop (道具) preparations, and the students practicing their lines. Sarah had spent countless hours rehearsing, wanting to get every word and movement absolutely right.

However, underlying her anticipation was a growing sadness. Sarah’s dad, Mr Thompson, worked as an engineer in a big city, and his job often kept him away from home for a long time, which meant he frequently missed out on most of the special moments in Sarah’s life. This play seemed to be another addition to that growing list. He had a vital business meeting on the same day, and Sarah, although understanding, couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Her classmates talked excitedly about their families coming to watch, increasing her sense of loss.

It was bright and sunny on the day of the play. The school’s hall was noisy with students. Students in costumes rushed about, teachers gave last-minute instructions, and the air was thick with anticipation. Sarah peeped out from behind the curtains and saw the hall filling up with eager parents, siblings, and friends. Every seat was taken, except one — her dad’s.

The play started on time with Sarah and her classmates’ performance being the first. The actors delivered their lines with passion and the audience responded with laughter and applause at all the right moments. Sarah played her part with a mix of excitement and longing, wishing her dad could see her shine.

Halfway through, the host called for a surprise guest to enter. He described him as a “mysterious stranger” whose brief appearance would provide a turning point in the plot. As the lights dimmed slightly and suspenseful music played, a tall figure stepped onto the stage.

Sarah’s heart jumped faster.

When the final scene concluded and the curtains drew to a close, applause thundered through the hall.

I was a 15-year-old girl when my beloved grandma Rosie was placed in a group home in Brookfield because of sharply declining memory. I can vividly remember the unpleasant environments inside the nursing home. That impression has ultimately impacted me in a very great way, even after I graduated from university with a degree in architecture.

Grandma Rosie was the heart of our family. Her little two-bedroom home was truly where all her children and grandchildren gathered. She was also an amazing cook and her specialty was fried pork steak. Most of my nephews and nieces were fans of her specialty. She lived alone after my grandpa passed away but was cared by many relatives and friends. When she was in her late 60s, we began to witness a significant memory impairment (受损) in her. Everyone started checking up on her. A frequent question that people would ask her, “What did you have for dinner?”, almost always brought the same answer — fried pork steak. Every day she would report making fried pork steak. One day a group of us went to her house secretly, and found she was making fried pork steak!

After some lengthy consideration, our family were concerned for her condition and ultimately decided to place Rosie in a group home in Brookfield. A year later, Rosie caught heart disease and her condition required her to be moved to a nursing home in Oconomowoc. Her memory also declined sharply and she no longer remembered our names. It was heartbreaking for our family to know that.

By that time, I was in high school and thinking about plans for college. Seeing the cold, sterile (呆板的) long hallways and unfriendly surroundings in the nursing home, I was determined to become a professional architect concentrating on senior care and health care design. I wanted to design living space where seniors can not only live but benefit from lovely environments.

Bearing this goal in mind, I worked extremely hard.

Finally, Grandma Rosie moved into a senior living community I designed.

Alice had been optimistic and the heart of her family. Unfortunately, one day cancer attacked her brain. Although suffering from illness, Alice remained a source of encouragement, especially for Jenny, her 12-year-old daughter. Alice often read inspiring stories to her, helped with her homework, and cheered her up to solve difficulties bravely. When Alice’s condition worsened, the family’s daily life was enveloped in the shadow of uncertainty and sorrow.

In her final days, Alice made a video without letting Jenny know, and handed it to her husband John. She wanted Jenny to remember her when she grew up, not as the woman weakened by illness, but as the loving and optimistic mother she had always been.

After Alice’s passing, Jenny put her mother’s photographs in a box and locked herself in her own room. For her, going into the empty living room where she and her mother read together was heartbreaking. Even the routine of going to school, once a joyful activity shared with her mother, now became an unbearable pain. John tried his best to ease the pain left by Alice. He cooked Jenny her favorite meals, read bedtime stories, and even tried braiding (编) her hair, just the way Alice used to do. But Jenny, lost in sorrow, found little comfort in these efforts.

“Dad, I won’t go to school. I just want to be left alone,” Jenny shouted, her voice full of anger and hopelessness, when John asked her to prepare for school. John understood her pain but felt helpless. That was when he decided to show Jenny the video Alice had made. He hoped that hearing her mother’s voice might bring some comfort to Jenny. Gently walking upstairs and knocking on Jenny’s door, he entered with a video player. “Your mom left something for you,” he said, trying to mask his own sadness with a hopeful smile. Jenny, still teary-eyed, hesitated but eventually pressed the “play” button.

Immediately, Alice’s smiling face appeared on the screen.

Jenny stepped out of her room with a smile on her face.

One sunny afternoon, I was playing in the backyard when I noticed a beautiful shiny piece of paper lying on the table. It was leftover aluminum foil (锡纸) from a package my mum had opened. I picked it up and was immediately attracted by its sparkling appearance. Curiosity got the best of me, and I couldn’t help but ask my dad about it.

“Dad, what is this paper called? It’s so shiny and beautiful!” I inquired, holding the aluminum foil up for him to see.

My dad chuckled and replied, “That’s. called aluminum foil, and it has many uses.”

Naturally, my curiosity was piqued (激发), and I eagerly asked, “What can it be used for?”

My dad smiled and said, “Why don’t you research it yourself? It’ll be a great opportunity for you to learn something new. ”

With a sense of excitement, I grabbed my phone and started researching on the Internet. I found out that it is a type of metal paper called aluminum foil, which is moisture-proof(防潮的). As I looked through the information, an idea popped into my head. What if I put some water in a small aluminum foil container and heated it in the microwave? Would the water boil?

Unable to resist the urge to experiment, I cut a piece of aluminum foil and folded it into a small square container. I added some water into the container and placed it in the microwave. With my eyes wide open, I anxiously watched the aluminum foil container, filled with anticipation. But before I could see any changes in the water, suddenly a burst of fire erupted from the microwave, surprising me. I quickly rushed to unplug the appliance and collapsed onto the floor, feeling a great fear.

I wanted to go to a party. Especially it was a beach party. It had been almost the only thing my friends had been talking about for the last couple of weeks. But My mom had said no. The more desperately I pleaded her case, the more forcefully my mother said no. “I don’t care who’s going,” said coldly my mother, “you are not going.” I was heartbroken. This was my best friend’s party.

Sunday dinner came around and my grandmother joined the family for the meal. Gran noticed my depression but didn’t say a word. It was my turn to wash up and Gran said, “Let me help you.” “What’s up?” asked Gran as I dumped the dishes into the foaming water. Gran wiped a plate with a tea towel. “Mom won’t let me go to my best friend’s party.” I said sadly. “Has mom explained why she doesn’t want you to go?” asked Gran. “No.” I replied. “Then for a moment, put yourself in her position.” said Gran. “If you were mom, what would your objections be?”

I hadn’t stopped to think about my mom’s side. “Well,” I answered, “it’s a beach party. Maybe she doesn’t trust us or thinks we’ll get into trouble.”

“Are there going to be any adults there?” asked Gran. “No,” I said, “who wants their parents hanging around when you’re trying to have fun?” “Might it just be,” said Gran, “your mother doesn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to you.”“Nothing will happen.” I objected. “Maybe you’re right,” said Gran, “but maybe mom’s worried in case it could.”

Gran looked at me gently, seeming to expect my agreement. For a minute or so, I kept silent, pondering for a while about my eagerness for the party. “Maybe, you are right, however, is there no hope?” I inquired. “Not necessarily.” answered Gran, lost in thought.

Paragraph 1: “Then maybe think of a compromise.” suggested Gran.

Paragraph 2: The long-awaited beach party finally came.