I’m smaller than everyone else my age. When I walk in the halls at school, I have to squeeze in between the bigger kids to get by. At the playground, sometimes even little kids try to boss me around. Mia, my best friend, is so tall that when she walks, I have to jog to keep up with her.

I used to try to make myself taller whenever I could. My posture was perfect, straight as an arrow. I hung from the tree in our backyard to stretch out my arms and legs. I even ate all my vegetables. Every day I measured myself, but I was the same height every time. Frustrating!

“Don’t worry,” Mom always said. “Being small has its advantages.” “Really? I could never notice any.”

One day, Mrs. Alvarez announced to the class that we’d be putting on a spring play. I practiced all the lines. But at the audition (试演), when I walked up to the stage, Mrs. Alvarez cried, “You’ll be perfect as the elf (小精灵)! You’re just the right size for the costume.” I even never got a chance to deliver the practiced lines. Back home I grumbled (咕哝) to mum that I was made an elf. But she bet I would be the best elf. To please her, I went to rehearsals (排练), though I only had two lines.

Mia got the lead role-a girl wandering through a magical fairy forest in search of her lost dog. In the last scene, she finds a box under a giant mushroom, and when she opens it, her dog jumps out. Mrs. Alvarez’s dog, Prince, played the dog role. She brought him to all the rehearsals, and when he wasn’t onstage, we got to play with him, but he seemed to like me best.

The night of the show, my first line came early, “Let’s ask the Fairy Queen!” Since my only other line was toward the end, I waited offstage, playing with Prince.

Finally, the grand end came, and Prince was brought onstage inside the box.

“How can we get Prince out from beneath the stage?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.

We had just relocated to Germany and moved into a big and old country house with a mysterious abandoned wine cellars (地窖), which my husband warned me many times not to explore without him. After settling down, we began slowly releasing our large family of rescue cats and dogs into the woods behind our house so that they could get used to the area and venture out on their own. So, it wasn’t long before we gained a reputation for having lots of rescue animals with us in the neighborhood.

One day, the doorbell rang and I was sure some of my Christmas packages had arrived. I ran to the door and swung it open, but no one was there. I sensed something and looked down, only to find a beautiful calico (有斑点的) kitten sitting there, looking up at me with big, intelligent eyes. There was no way that she could have rung the doorbell by herself, was there? Were my new neighbors playing tricks on me? Perhaps, someone had found the kitten somewhere and left her there, and then rang the doorbell and ran away. They accurately guessed we would welcome an additional family member and take care of her.

My husband called her our little angel, so we named her Angelica accordingly. It seemed as if she was always meant to be in this big family and she turned out to be a perfect companion. Always by my side, she was more like a puppy than a kitten. Wise beyond her years, she enjoyed exploring through the mysterious house as much as I did, but with much less fear. Angelica was courageous.

So, I decided to be brave, too. I had promised my husband that I wouldn’t explore dangerous areas unless he or someone else was around, but he was away on a business trip for a week and I figured that Angelica would count as my companion. I was ready to explore the cellar, and so was she.

The only way in was through a hatch (盖子) that was partially hidden by the grass that covered it, then down a shaky ladder to its dark depths, probably twelve feet deep. I equipped myself with a good flashlight and warm clothes. Angelica sat on the edge and watched me carefully start down the ladder. Suddenly, there was a crash at the foot.

DRUMMING WITH GRANDPA

Roger was filled with excitement as his mother told him his grandfather was on his way over. He always had fun together with his grandfather who once drummed in a band. They could make the whole house shake with their joyful music. Roger got excited and practiced drumming all morning.

Finally, Dad's car pulled up in front of the house. Upon hearing the car door opened. Roger shouted for joy from his bedroom window, "Hi, Grandpa! Listen to this!” Taking a deep breath, he raised his drumsticks and began rocking and rolling, just like Grandpa had taught him. Jumping up. he raced outside to his grandfather and asked, "Grandpa. what do you think? Are you ready to drum together?" Grandpa, giving Roger a hug, said. "It was wonderful, but I'm afraid I can't play right now.” Dad smiled at Roger, telling him some of Grandpa's finger joints were hurting him and that maybe he would want to play after a short rest. Roger didn't ask again.

After lunch, Roger went to his room to get his skateboard, finding someone had already stepped into the room. It was Grandpa who stood near the drum set. He picked up a drumstick and began to play. Thump! Thump! But just with two thumps, the drumstick fell onto the floor. Grandpa reached for it, trying to pick it up, but the drumstick fell out of his hand. He tried again and the same thing happened. Grandpa moved his red and swollen fingers, looking upset. Seeing this, Roger shut the door noiselessly. He walked to the sitting room where Dad was reading and asked Dad to drive him to his friend's house. "David has a drum with the pedal （踏板）and I'd like to borrow it," Roger told Dad about his plan. Dad got the car keys and off they went.

''Grandpa, a surprise!” Roger shouted when they returned with a big box.

Slowly, Grandpa reached out his foot and pushed the pedal as Roger did.

“Will you do me a favor, Achenyo?” Mama called as she looked up from her weaving. Beside her was a pile of wild-grass stalks (秆). Mama took a stalk, laid it along the length of the half-finished bag, and began to weave (编织). In the corner were pots of dyes (染料) she’d use to paint the finished bags. “Will you get me some water for the dyes?” “Of course, Mama!” Achenyo picked up a pot as she ran outside. She didn’t like weaving, although it was a tradition for a mother to pass on the trade to her daughter. Outside, Achenyo called to her neighbor Ajuma. Both girls, with pots balanced on their heads, made their way to the river.

Achenyo and Ajuma soon arrived at the water’s edge, and they found a huge surprise. The river was gone! In its place was a blanket of dark green leaves and lavender-colored (淡紫色的) flowers. “Oh no!” Achenyo cried. “Mama won’t have water to mix the dyes for her bags.” When the adults arrived at the riverbank, they shook their heads, saying “They’ve struck again!”

Last year, the rainy season had brought an invasion (入侵) of water hyacinths. The plants had covered the river and left no room to dip a pot to get water. And now they were back. The adults walked into the water. They began pulling up water hyacinths and throwing them onto the riverbank. When they’d cleared enough plants, the girls filled their pots with water. A pile of water hyacinths lay on the riverbank. What a shame to waste such pretty flowers, Achenyo thought. She picked some for Mama, and then the girls headed home. Each day, they found the river covered by water hyacinths as if no one had cleared the waterfront (水边地) the day before. To fill their pots, they again had to pull up and throw water hyacinths onto the riverbank. The pile on the sand grew taller.

One day, as Achenyo moved an armful of dried water hyacinths out of her way, she had an idea. Carrying the plants under her arm, she ran home.

“Mama, will you teach me to weave?” asked Achenyo eagerly.

One afternoon, Achenyo held up her finished work made from water hyacinths.

It all began when I moved to Dallasin the fourth grade, and I noticed that I was behind in my reading at School. Reading out loud, I had difficulty with half the sentences. My teacher, Mrs. Agnew, said my reading comprehension and ability to pronounce words was at a lower level than other fourth graders. I was scared every time she called on me to read aloud because, although I would try my hardest, she would always have to help me with the words. Mrs. Agnew suggested to my mother that I be tested for dyslexia (发育性阅读障碍) and seek a cure.

At first I didn’t understand why I was being tested. To be honest, I was in fear of facing failure then. Nervous and confused, I sat waiting in the hospital room, unsure of what Dr. Grady, the doctor who diagnosed developmental dyslexia, was telling my parents about the test results.

However, the final results showed that I did have developmental dyslexia. Knowing it, I froze. I had no idea what to do but stand still. My mother looked at me and said quietly, “Honey, don’t worry, and I’ll be with you all time. Are you going to let the obstacle get in your way? Say NO!”. Eventually, I became determined to struggle against my disability. I started to take speech treatments from doctors and some medical volunteers regularly. Dr. Grady told us to go to the hospital twice a week for treatment and my reading ability will get to normal after three years’ training.

Gradually, I even began to love reading, which I had once hated it so much. Several medical volunteers listened to me patiently and taught me patiently. I was deeply moved. Whenever I saw volunteers in white candy-striped (粉白相间条纹的) medical uniforms passing by me, I had a strong desire to give back by being a volunteer to help those like me.

A Chair for My Mother

My mother works as a waitress in the Blue Tile Diner. After school sometimes I go to meet her there. Then her boss Josephine gives me a job too. When I finish, Josephine says, “Good work, honey,” and pays me. And every time, I put half of my money into the jar (罐子).

It takes a long time to fill a jar this big. Every day when my mother comes home from work, I take down the jar. My mama empties all her change from tips for me to count. Then we push all of the coins into the jar.

Sometimes my mama is laughing when she comes home from work. Sometimes she’s so tired she falls asleep while I count the money. Some days she has lots of tips. Some days she has only a few. Then she looks worried. But each evening every single shiny coin goes into the jar.

We sit in the kitchen to count the tips. Usually Grandma sits with us too. Often she has money in her old wallet for us. Whenever she gets a good bargain (划算的交易) on tomatoes or bananas or something she buys, she puts by the savings and they go into the jar.

When we can’t get a single other coin into the jar, we are going to take out all the money and go and buy a chair. Yes, a chair. A wonderful, beautiful, fat, soft armchair for Mama and Grandma. When Mama comes home, her feet hurt. “There’s no good place for me to rest my feet,” she says. When Grandma wants to sit back and cut up potatoes, she has to get as comfortable as she can on a hard kitchen chair.

So that is how come Mama brought home the biggest jar she could find and all the coins started to go into the jar.

Now the jar is too heavy for me to lift down.

Finally we find the chair we are all dreaming of.