A Sweet Song

"Nothing will ever be the same again," Ally whispered. She sank slowly into her father's favorite chair and stared at the small American flag on his desk. It was the flag which Chief Russell had given to her after the funeral last summer, when he hugged her and told her how proud the Police Department was of her dad's work for them. His tears had warmed Ally's cheeks; her own tears were still frozen inside her heart.

Ally looked at her father's picture on the bookcase. Dad was sitting in the middle of a stream, wet through but grinning proudly. "I miss you, Dad," she said softly. By this time last year she had already taken dozens of pictures. Ever since she could remember, she and Dad had been a team, searching the woods behind the house each weekend for a glimpse of the special wood warbler（林中莺）.

Ally reached for the first photo album she and Dad had put together. On the cover a tiny orange bird with blue-gray wings and sharp black eyes peered out of the photo her father had clipped from a local newspaper. Ally smiled, remembering the excited look on his face when he first showed her the pretty bird. "Ally, I bet if we search real hard, we'll see this little guy together some day."

They'd never spotted the warbler, but her father had an amazing way of making each outing seem special. Staying with Dad, Ally felt comfortable. "If only I could get that good feeling back," she thought, sighing.

Staring at the bird, suddenly, she knew exactly what she had to do. Grabbing the-little flag, she placed her camera around her neck and hurried outside. Ally stuck the flag among the flowers in the garden. "Please let me see the warbler," she murmured to herself. She gave her worried Mom a kiss and then set off into the woods.

Familiar smells of the earth rose up to greet her.

Determined to start out the next morning, she was about to head home when a ringing birdsong floated down to her.

I'm terribly sorry to tell you that I am unable to go to Yunnan with you.

Yours,

Li Hua

When Ruth was sixty-eight years old, she visited her daughter Judy and teenage granddaughter Marcy in California. They headed for their cabin, moving forty miles up and down the mountains in their car,along a narrow one-lane road that wound terrifyingly close to cliffs (悬崖).

After dinner, Marcy announced the water tank was low and that she would drive the car down to the pump and get water. Ruth was nervous about her young granddaughter driving down the narrow road by herself, but Judy reminded her that Marcy had been driving vehicles up there roads for many years

“Just be careful, Marcy”, her mother warned. “They’ve had a drought up here and the road along the cliff is pretty shaky. Be sure to hug the mountain side.”

Ruth and Judy watched Marcy from the big window where they could see the road winding down the mountainside. Fifteen minutes later, Judy was still watching when suddenly she screamed,”Oh no! She went over the cliff, Momma! The car and Marcy--they went over! We have to help her!Come on!”

Judy took off running desperately. Grabbing a three-foot-long walking stick against the cabin door, Ruth ran behind her, but Judy was quickly out of sight after the first turn in the road. Breathing hard, Ruth ran on and on, trying to catch up with her daughter. It was getting harder and harder to see anything at dusk.

Suddenly she stopped, not knowing where she was.”Marcy!Judy!”she shouted.

A faint voice .”Momma!”It was Judy.

Ruth screamed into the darkness “Judy,where are you?” Off to her right and down the cliff she heard, “Down here,Mother!Don’t come near the edge! I slipped on loose rocks and fell over. I’m down about ten feet.”

“Oh dear! Judy, what can I do?”

“Just stay back, Momma!”

Facing the situation, Ruth felt her heart was pounding, and chest pains almost took her breath away. She started to sob, totally at a loss what to do.

At that moment, Ruth glimpsed at the walking stick, an idea striking her.

Ruth held her close and said anxiously. “Judy. We have to get help for Marcy!”

Every previous year on Thanksgiving Day I’d woken up early, filled with excitement, unable to wait for the turkey, pumpkin pie with pecans, and my grandma’s famous cheesecake. But I would never forget the lesson that my mother taught me when I was 14 years old. That Thanksgiving, I couldn’t find the magic anymore. For some reason the holiday seemed fake (假的). I suddenly felt like Thanksgiving was a big lie. I saw no reason to celebrate.

As my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandma started to arrive carrying plates of food, baskets of bread, and pitchers of egg nog, I grew more and more angry and frustrated. None of them were really thankful, I realized. The whole thing was a lie!

When my mom called for everyone to take their seats for dinner, I left. I ran into the guest room where no one would look, crying. I was defiant (反抗的) because I wanted to be an honest person but 1 was realizing that Thanksgiving was fake. It didn’t feel right to join in the tradition---say something beautiful one by one around the table.

My mom, worried that 1 was absent from the table, came to see what was wrong, “No one is really thankful!” I sobbed, “They just pretend for one day because that’s what you’re supposed to do!"

My mom sat down next to me and listened wisely. Then she nodded. “You’re right,” she told me, “it’s fake until you find the truth for yourself.” She said Thanksgiving was a time to reflect because we don’t always get a chance to see loved ones and eat a good meal. Then she left. I didn’t listen to her. I was convinced that I could never find joy celebrating again.

But I was also starving and I had to eat something.

At her words, I realized they wanted me to be a part of the tradition.

Jack and I are good friends. We tried to walk across the United States of America. We’re not exactly sure why we were doing it. Part of     1     (its) was to test ourselves; to see     2     we could face the challenges. When I was a teenager, I often daydreamed that I was going to walk across the United States after     3    (graduate) from high school.    4     , I didn’t do that.

Before I knew it, I was     5    my thirties，married, a job, yet still had this idea in my mind with each passing year. I figured I was too old and my opportunity     6    (pass). Then, a few years ago, I met Jack, who     7     (be) thirty­five years old and quit his job as a civil engineer in New York City to walk across the United States. He wasn’t doing it for a cause as part of an organization. He was doing it     8    (simple) because he loved to walk and discover. The idea was back and I no longer had an excuse. We planned on averaging 20 miles a day and taking some days off     9    (rest), so we expected that the walk will take about 6 months, realizing it could take     10    (long). We were in no hurry: The total distance would have been about 3,100 miles.

After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. It’s hard to imagine that the other woman was my mother, who has been living alone for 19 years, but I am too busy to visit her often. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

“What’s wrong? Are you well?” she asked. My mother always doubts that a late night call is a sign of bad news.

“It would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded.

As I drove over to pick her up, I noticed that she seemed to be nervous about our date. But she smiled from a face that was as beautiful as an angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said.

We went to a restaurant that was very nice and comfortable. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. I saw mom sitting there looking at me with a smile on her lips.

“I used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time to let me return the favour,” I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation-nothing special but catching up on recent events. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.

When I got home, my wife shared her story about her mom who passed away years ago.

Several days later, I received my mother’s invitation.

Mom was born in a small village, which is famous for paper-folding art, and Mom learnt how to make paper animals. In 1967, Mom went to Hong Kong, where she met Dad. They went to the suburbs of Connecticut later. Not knowing English, she was lonely until I was born.

When I was young, Mom liked to make paper animals for me. She folded up the paper, then lifted the paper packet to her mouth and blew into it. There in her hands was a little paper tiger. It seemed that the little tiger shared her breath. This was her magic. At my request, Mom also made a goat, a deer and even a shark.

Mark, one of the neighborhood boys, came over with his Star Wars action figure. I brought out the paper tiger. Mark examined the wrapping-paper pattern of the tiger’s skin. "That doesn’t look like a tiger. Is it a toy? ""I had never thought of that. But looking at it, it was really just a piece of wrapping paper.

Later, Dad bought me a full set of Wars action figures. I packed the paper animals in a shoebox and put them into the comer of the attic(阁楼). Once in a while, I would see Mom at the kitchen table making new paper animals. I caught them, pressed and then put them away in the box in the attic.

Mom was also trying to learn to speak English, but her accent and broken sentences embarrassed me. I tried to correct her. but in vain. Eventually. I stopped talking with her. For years, I paid no attention to Mom until one day my Dad called and told me that Mom was in hospital. Dad and I stood, one on each side of Mom. She turned to me, " Jack, just keep that box with you, and you will find it so important. "

She died several days later. Dad aged raw after that. The house was too big for him and had to be sold. My girlfriend Susan and I went to help him pack and clean the place.