We had a garden in our backyard and I always watered the flowers together with my little sister, Laynie. She had her own watering cans and small shovels so she could ”work“ with me. One day, I showed her how to grow flowers: Dig a hole. Put in a few seeds. Cover them up with dirt. Water them every two or three days.

“See, Laynie,” I explained to her, “Beautiful flowers will grow from these tiny seeds in a few months.”

The next day, after everything was watered, she ran to the fence and started watering another spot. I walked over and saw some fresh dirt near the fence.

“Did you plant something here?” I asked.

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

“But. . . ”

I wanted to laugh and tell her the truth, but I changed my mind and said, “Uh. . . I had never tried that before.”

Late in the evening when Laynie was asleep, I dug up the short pencil and “planted” a brand-new one. Laynie was really excited when she dug it up the next morning.

“My pencil grew!” she shouted.

A few days later, Laynie was watering on the same spot. One day later, new crayons stuck their pointy little heads out, thanks to me.

“My crayons grew, too!” Laynie yelled, jumping up and down.

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 magic “seeds”. And it was cool to see her get excited.

One morning, I saw her carrying our little gold fish to the fence. I knew immediately what she was going to do and rushed to its rescue.

“How long does it take to grow a big goldfish?” she asked me seriously.

I couldn’t answer her question immediately.

“No!” my baby sister screamed and burst into tears.

3 . When I was 14, I invited some friends for a party at our home out in the country. I planned it well, but something __ happened. When it was time for us to ride the bus, Nora, one of my friends, didn’t ___.

I felt __ . Why would she tell me she’d come to the party and then __ without letting me know? So, I decided to call Nora and get some answers. I needed no __ but I demanded to know why.

Nora __ she had to stay away from school because she was sick. Anger still seized me and I __ to listen, “What kind of friend are you?” Nora began crying on the phone, hurt and surprised. For the rest of the school year, we __ hung around again, and I forgot about my __ call with Nora. __ had happened between us at some point, but I shrugged (耸肩) it off.

Years later, I began to __ that ugly phone conversation. I regretted it. I recognized how selfish, and __ I’d been, caring only about myself. I wanted to make things __ . I wrote an apology letter to Nora and soon got her __ . So finally, we did bring a sad moment from the past to a __ conclusion, healing both of us.

Martin was returning home after a difficult shift (轮班) on a dark snowy night. He worked as a truck driver in Los Angeles, taking several shifts a week because he had a sick daughter, Anne, who needed urgent surgery, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to raise enough money for it.

Anne was diagnosed with a cyst (囊肿) shortly after birth. The doctors told Martin and his wife Helen that she needed an operation as soon as possible, otherwise, it could pose a threat to the little girl’s life. The parents decided they should do whatever it took to save their daughter and began saving money right away.

It was too black outside with no visibility (能见度). Martin was driving slowly, thinking of solutions to his problem when he noticed a shadow in the middle of the road. He hit the brakes and the truck came to a complete stop. Rubbing his eyes, Martin looked more closely. A human figure — a woman lying unconscious in the middle of the road!

Martin picked up the woman, carried her to his truck, quickly changed his route and drove straight to the hospital. About 10 minutes later, they finally arrived at the hospital. “It’s an emergency! Please call the doctor!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. The woman was admitted to hospital at once.

The next day, Martin went to the hospital to see the woman. The woman was Daisy, who was a rich businesswoman. Daisy expressed her gratitude to him and told him the whole story about how she ended up on the road. “Thank you so much, Martin. You’re a really generous soul. I heard you drove me to the hospital last night and that you have been here a few times with your daughter.”

Daisy found that Martin seemed to be worried.

As the saying goes, one good turn deserves another.

7 . Car Talk

When I got the driving license last summer, Mom and I took our first trip around an empty parking lot. Then I found that my mother was not the best teacher for me. It wasn’t that she shouted, or told me that I was doing poorly. As you can imagine, my mother’s “helpful instructions” only managed to make me more nervous.

Since I could no longer practice with her, the job was placed in the hands of my father. The idea of learning from Dad was not one that thrilled me. I loved him dearly, but I just did not see Dad as someone I could be comfortable learning from. He almost never talked. We shared a typical father-daughter relationship. He’d ask how school was, and I’d say it was fine. Unfortunately, that was the most of our conversations. Spending hours alone with someone who might as well have been a stranger really scared me.

As we got into the car that first time, I was not surprised at what happened. Dad and I drove around, saying almost nothing, aside from a few instructions on how to turn. As my lessons went on, however, things began to change. Dad would turn the radio up so I could fully appreciate his favorite Stones music. And he actually began talking. I was soon hearing about past failed dates, “basic body” gym class, and other tales from his past, including some of his first meeting with Mom.

Dad’s sudden chattiness was shocking until I thought about why he was telling me so much in the car. In all the years that I had wondered why my father never spoke that much, I had never stopped to consider that it was because I had never bothered to listen. Homework, friends, and even TV had all called me away from him, and, consequently, I never thought my quiet father had anything to say.

Since I began driving with him, my driving skill has greatly increased. More important, though, is that my knowledge of who my father is has also increased. Just living with him wasn’t enough—it took driving with him for me to get to know someone who was a mystery.

10 . Larry and I have always had our basic values in common, but our interests are as far apart as opera and basketball. I love art, and he is a huge sports fan. His big passion is seeing basketball games. He has been sharing season tickets with his friends for years. I must admit I’ve been always invited to see the games together.

This morning, I called my brother, Larry, and said, “I have a piece of good news and a piece of bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” “Good news first,” Larry answered. “You can go to sleep early tonight,” I said. “Okay. What’s the bad one?” he asked. “We’re going to the opera!” I answered, laughing loudly.

There was a reason for the joke. Last time I invited him to go to the opera, he fell asleep in the theater. I had to admit it was always boring for him, but when I gave him a ticket for my favorite opera, I really thought he might enjoy it. I woke him up, but soon he fell asleep again. When Larry found I was joking, he breathed a sigh of relief on the other end. He said, “But I want you to go to see the last basketball game this autumn with me.” I promised and complained, “Not again!” Actually, most of the time, when the game was on, I’d be texting or daydreaming. Sometimes, my telephone messages would be interrupted when the home team scored. I knew they scored because everyone jumped up and exchanged high-fives and fist bumps.

However, today, as I looked around at thousands of people cheering and getting increasingly excited, I decided to at least give it a try—for my brother’s sake, if not for my own. The game was in-tense, and I was hooked soon. When the other team scored, I eventually felt a bit disappointed with the rest of my crowd. My brother was surprised to see me getting involved. I was astonished myself! I didn’t keep glancing at the clock, counting the minutes until we got out. Time flew. The game was over before I knew it.