Last Thursday, my husband Robin and I invited some of our friends for dinner.

Just before I left work, Robin called me and said that he had to stay late at work, which meant that I had to prepare everything for the night on my own. Realizng that I didn’t have too much time, I could feel my anger rising as I drove to pick up Jason and Michael from school. After they got into the car, I informed them that we would stop on the halfway to buy something, and that they needed to help me tidy the house when we got home.

Both of the boys started complaining. I warned them that I was not in the mood to listen. They crossed their arms and became angry. For the next hour, I dragged them from one place to the next. The more I needed them to hurry, the more distracted (分心的) and silly they became. My patience was wearing thin.

Just as we finished our last task, the boys reminded me that we needed to stop at the pet store to pick up crickets (蟋蟀) for their pet lizards (蜥蜴).“You promised that you would buy crickets for us, and you shouldn’t break your promise,” Jason said. “Fine! But we need to be fast,”I replied impatiently, and then we raced to the pet shop.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back in the car with some new passengers: one hundred live crickets in a plastic bag. I pulled the car into the driveway and there was only forty-five minutes left to unpack the car, clean the house, and set the table before my guests arrived. How would I make it?

After returning home, I started barking out orders, but the boys were pouring the crickets from the plastic bag into the box that they prepared and they obviously ignored my orders.

My anger swept over me, and I shouted at them to hurry up, but they didn’t listen.

The moment I turned round, I found crickets were jumping all over my kitchen.

Finally, I jumped off the chair and started catching crickets with my boys.

My father, Michael, led me through the little wooden house he’d filled with his paintings. “When I have an exhibition ...” he began, pointing to the artworks he’d created, before stopping. “Poor Pa,” I thought. In 1994 he got Parkinson’s Disease (帕金森氏病), which had shocked the whole family as he was only in his forties.

A husband and father to three, Pa had had a successful career running an advertising agency and had always been extremely creative. Outside of work, he’d spent 15 years fronting the cover band, Musical Chairs, which performed at the pub in Sydney’s Double Bay each week and, when I became a mother, he developed a very close bond with my daughter.

Even when his Parkinson’s advanced, my father decided he wanted to paint. “Why don’t you try classes?”my mum Louisa suggested to him. He agreed. In art lessons, the class practised painting still life objects, like pears, but my father had other ideas for his inspiration. He began producing abstract pieces, inspired by his favourite artist, Jackson Pollock, a leading abstract expressionist. “Why abstract?” I asked him. “Because,” he replied,“it helps us to see the world around us in a different way. You can look at these paintings and ask ‘what if?’”

Soon, I realized he was right. When I observed my father’s work, I could interpret each of them in many ways. Once he got started, he showed no signs of slowing down. The little house was quickly filled with more and more works.

But in 2019, Pa developed cancer and was given just three months to live. The thought of losing him was too much for any of my family to accept, but we soon received great news that a new form of treatment can help him greatly. Since he continued speaking about wanting to share his paintings with the world, I knew what had to be done.

David Ballesteros looked at the lawyer. He couldn’t believe his ears. The lawyer told him that his father left the 1923 Singer sewing machine (缝纫机) to him. It once belonged to his great-grandmother and his father considered it his greatest treasure.“That’s very nice,”David said.“But what else? What about the legacy (遗产)? The money? What does it all amount to?”

The lawyer, Mr. Jarvin, put down the will. He felt sorry for David but he thought David’s father had explained the terms of the will before he died. David remembered that his father just told him he’d be passing on his riches, but he never specified the amount — that was what he was trying to find out!

Mr. Jarvin said carefully,“David, no money at all.”“That’s impossible!” David screamed. His father owned clothing factories all over the United States. He was rich! Mr. Jarvin explained that all the money was donated to charity under the terms of his father’s will.

David was reeling (晕头转向) from the shock. He’d lived a life of wealth and now he was left with nothing but an old sewing machine! Mr. Jarvin said to David that his father left him a letter which may explain his decision. David grabbed the envelope. His father’s decision was to leave him a poor man! What kind of explanation could he possibly have for that! He drove back to his apartment just in time to see a van (厢式送货车) pull up.

“Mr. David Ballesteros?”asked the man from the van.“Yes,” David said.“We have a delivery for you, sir.”He gestured to the old sewing machine.“Where would you like it?”David was about to scream“In the trash (垃圾桶)!”but it occurred to him that the old item might be worth some money, so he ordered the man to take it up to his apartment. After the man left, David poured himself a drink and looked at the sewing machine.“I have an MBA. I’m prepared to run companies. What am I supposed to do with a sewing machine, Dad?”he asked aloud.

Then he remembered the letter and opened it.

When David put down the letter he had tears in his eyes.

Some people are just doomed (注定) to be failures. That’s the way some adults look at troubled kids. A bird with a broken wing will never fly as high. David was made to feel this way almost every day in school.

David was the most famous troublemaker in high school. He wasn’t confident and didn’t answer questions. From time to time he skipped classes and got into lots of fights. Teachers didn’t want to have him again the following year. However, things gradually changed during a weekend leadership meeting. All the students at school had been invited to sign up for ACE training, a program designed to have students become more involved in their communities.

At the start of the meeting, David was literally standing outside the circle of students, against the back wall, with that “go ahead, impress me” look on his face. He didn’t readily join the discussion groups. But slowly, the interactive games drew him in the discussion. David started to join them and he really had great ideas. The other students in David’s group welcomed his comments. All of a sudden David felt like a part of the group.

The next day, David was very active in all the sessions. By the end of the meeting, he had joined the Homeless Project team. He knew something about poverty, hunger and hopelessness. The other students on the team were impressed with his passionate concern and ideas. They elected David co-chairman of the team.

The very first community service project organized by the Homeless Project team was to collect food for the homeless in the charge of David. But a group of teachers doubted whether this crucial beginning should be in the hands of David. The principal reminded them that the purpose of the ACE program was to uncover any positive passion that a student had and reinforce (加强) its practice until true change can take place.

Two weeks later, David led 20 students in the team to collect food for the homeless.

After David’s picture appeared in the newspaper, everyone saw great changes in him.

Almost all of my holidays were spent with my grandpa. My grandpa was a retired army officer and the years in the army had made him a very tough person, which helped him a lot in fighting with cancer for a long time. Silver and golden stars on his shoulders and medals on his chest in grandma’s old photo albums reflected the marks of his distinguished service and numerous adventures. Grandpa had fine qualities and was a real personality. He was strict with his family, me included, as well as himself.

In our ancestral house there was a big pond as was common in bygone Bengali homes with lots of trees and bushes. Both my grandparents were fond of our so-called garden. One morning our new neighbor saw my grandpa planting two trees on both sides of our main gate, which still stand tall today. Across the street our new neighbor also got the same kind of tree and planted the trees exactly on both sides of his gate too.

My grandpa didn’t often give enough amount of water to his plants and didn’t always give his full attention to them, while our neighbor gave a lot of water to his plants and looked after them too well. My grandpa’s plants were simple but looked good. But our neighbor’s plants were much fuller and greener.

Normally, during April and May, we have short but violent thunderstorms called “Kalboishakhi”. One late evening during a Kalboishakhi we had showers with strong winds, which continued right throughout that night. Next morning along with my grandparents I came out to inspect the damage to our garden. I saw our neighbor was there in his garden too, but looked upset as his plants were uprooted. But, our plants were not damaged and were standing firm on the ground.

Often, when he came to visit, my grandfather would bring me a present. These were never the sorts of things that other people brought, such as dolls, books or toys. My dolls and toys have been gone for more than half a century, but many of my grandfather’s gifts are still with me.

Once he brought me a little plastic cup. I looked inside, expecting to see something special. But there was only some loose soil in it, which made me disappointed. He smiled at me affectionately. Turning around, he picked up a little teapot from my dolls’ tea set and took me to the kitchen where he filled the little cup with water. Back in the living room, he put it on the windowsill(窗台) and handed me the teapot. “If you promise to put some water in the cup every day, something may happen.” he told me.

At that time, I was only five years old. This whole thing made no sense to me at all. I looked at him doubtfully and asked, “Do I have to water it every day? What will happen?” He nodded to me with encouragement, “Yes, every day, dear.”

And so I promised. At first, curious to see what would happen, I did not mind doing this. But as the days went by and nothing changed, it got harder and harder to remember to put water in the cup. After a week, I asked my grandfather if it was time to stop yet. Shaking his head no, he said, “Every day.” The second week was even harder, and I became regretful of my promise to put water in the cup. When my grandfather came again, I tried to give it back to him, but he refused to take it, saying simply the same words, “Every day.” By the third week, I began to forget to put water in the cup during the day. Often, I would remember only after I had been put to bed and would have to get out of bed and water it in the dark. But I did not miss a single day.

One morning, something amazing happened.

This was perhaps my first lesson in the power of perseverance.