Last fall, before Thanksgiving, I was making my way in my car out of the shopping center parking lot. I was bored in the car. I 1a woman heavily loaded with 2 and her two boys, one carrying a pumpkin and the other another bag.

    They were headed, I 3, to the bus stop across the major road. 4it was too far to walk with all those 5 to any of the nearby bus stops, on a random impulse（冲动），I rolled down my window and asked if they were indeed headed to the 6. “Yes,” the mother 7. I asked, “Would you like a 8? “Oh, yes!” was their 9 reaction.

    I was also delighted，and，after driving out of the way of other 10, I stopped and the boys piled into the back seat . The mother started to push 11 beside them. I 12 her by saying, “Oh, you come on up here 13 me. I'm not a taxi driver!” So off we went.

    Right away, I decided to take them a mile and a half to their home, since I had 14 and they had bags. All the way, I had just a fine time listening and talking with all of them. It felt so good to be able to do this little 15 and showed that with such a small 16I could make a big difference to a tired mother. I'm not sure 17 got the most out of it.

    18, this was special for me 19, as a disabled person, I often receive help and now I know how especially good it feels to be 20.

    The moment I stepped off the plane after a writer's conference, my youngest son Jeremy greeted me and cried out, “Poster paper, Mama! I need poster paper. We're having a1at school.”

    Being a housewife and writer, I felt like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep up with the needs of my 2. Back at home, Jeremy kept reminding me of the poster paper, but I just couldn't 3a minute for it. Gradually though, he began to speak more 4, almost 5he were talking to himself. “Maybe he'll just forget it, ”I thought hopefully. So I put Jeremy's request at the6of my long list of things to do.

    My third day home I managed to take fifteen minutes to type an article when a small 7fell across my paper. I knew who it would be before I8. Jeremy stood quietly watching me.“Oh, Lord, please don't let him say it again.” I knew what he wanted but I needed to9. I smiled10at Jeremy and kept typing. He11for a few more minutes,  then turned and walked away. I almost didn't hear his12. “Competition is over tomorrow, anyway.” The small figure walking out of my room, a silent voice spoke urgently to my heart, “Get him that paper—now!”

     “Let's go to get the paper, Jeremy.” He stopped, 13and looked at me in 14“You're going to the store just for me?” I15. Suddenly, a look of16shot across his face, erasing the disbelief. I don't think I'll ever17that moment. Later that day, he worked silently on the18all afternoon. And a few weeks later, a large yellow envelope came. Inside it was the Certificate of Award. So19was I that I didn't turned away from his20to get him some poster paper.

    My 4-year-old son now enjoys posting letters. He has formed the 1 of drawing pictures, writing his name on them, and then  2 the artwork in an envelope. He then insists on 3 his handwork to the neighbors, and a mail box he 4 belongs to the elderly couple who live next door. To be 5, I didn't think much of it, but I had 6 to warn my neighbors of the drawings 7 appearing in their letterboxes—I just didn't have the 8 to do so, because I was a little busy recently.

    On Tuesday of last week, I was walking down to school to collect my son when I 9 Mary, my elderly neighbor, 10 at her mail box. She said, “Jodie, is it your little son that has been posting items in my letterbox to me?” I was at once 11, “Oh yes, Mary, it is. I'm sorry. I meant to tell you…” She cut me off, “Jodie, I just love his mail. I've 12 every item he has sent. You don't know how much 13 the letters has made my day. I just love them.” While I was walking down to school after our 14, many thoughts came to me. Mary doesn't have a lot to fill her days, 15 she was a mother to a number of children herself who receives fairly regular visitors. The small 16 of getting some mail—pictures drawn by the hand of a young child—has brought 17 to her days, just as my visit to my grandparents does.

    I have decided that my son should 18 this practice. He should also start sending some items to his grandparents in Perth as well. It will most 19 make their day.

    It's doing the little, simple things that can often make a big 20 in someone's life.

    It's always been a dream for Alex to take a trip with her mother, but it was a death in the family that1made them both realize how precious life really is.

    “After losing my grandma, I2that neither I nor my mum will3be here, and that I can't4the right time to come,” the 27-year-old girl told The Huffington post.

    “After a week of5, my amazing mum and I are off to travel around the United States. We will be travelling from New York to Los Angeles interviewing6who are changing the world for the better and7the dream I had for a very long time: to travel together with my mother. I have taken a month off work and we are on our way.8are waiting!” Alex said.

    So in August，Alex and her 63-year-old retired mother，Halina, traveled to the United States for a three-week 9that took them from coast to coast.

    Alex is the10of Looking For Heroes, a social media project, in which she photographs many of the interesting people she meets with,11unique tidbits (花边新闻) of their life stories at the same time. The 12mother and daughter traveled across the nation, visiting cities13Knoxville, Tennessee, New York City, Los Angeles and Washington. Along the way they took photos 14 famous backdrops (背景) in each city, making some15memories.

    Meanwhile, Alex16much from her mother. Her mother often said “My  17to young people would be to learn new things, and what you have learned will be your biggest 18in life. With age you stop19about things that don't matter. With your priorities (优先) changing, 20and health become the most important.

    I don't know your name, and I'm guessing that you are about high school age. I 1 you in action yesterday as you saved a little boy from 2 at Lake Elmo beach.

    I was sitting on a bench with my friends3 their children played in the water. I remember4you taking off your shorts, grabbing your 5 device and heading into the water. My friends and I noticed at that moment the little boy's 6 moving up and down. He couldn't have been more than two years old and 7 to be alone in the water.

    You got to him, put your flotation device around him, and 8 him back to shore. We could see the boy was 9 as you carried him out of the water and laid him on the 10. You started doing compression（按压）on his chest, and that is when we knew it was a bad 11We reached you and knew you needed 12I picked up my phone and dialed 911.

    Soon, the ambulance13 and several doctors were there to assist you. You appeared 14 as you walked away, as anyone would be. I 15 if this is your first rescue — it doesn't matter. What you did was heroic, and I 16 you.

    Had you been a few seconds later, this 17 could have ended quite differently. You were alert and18 what was going on in the water, responsible for watching over a hundred kids at that time.19 your fear, you took action. Because of you, the little boy and his family are 20together today.

    I'm standing in a class of wild 14－year－old girls as they throw paper and howl with laughter. They won't1to me.

    I was 22 and I didn't know what I was doing. I never wanted to teach. I wanted to be a 2. But when I arrived in London, they were short of teachers. My3 at teaching were hopeless. When the bell finally rang, I rushed to the 4 room, red 5anger. The other teachers weren't surprised. "That's 4B, the worst class in school," one said.

    I was afraid of our next meeting, but I couldn't give up, because I needed the job. Therefore, I 6formal lessons.7 ， I brought topics for class discussions. One of the liveliest talks was about the arguments they had with their 8. They paid attention and shared about their families. Then I had them write about themselves. As time went on, their essays became a 9 between us. I think they 10 my interest in their lives.

    The musical My Fair Lady was playing in the West End, but they had never seen a(n) 11 stage performance. I asked if they would like to see the musical. They thought I was 12. No teacher had ever 13 taking them out. A few weeks later, 4B and I were 14 in a theatre. They loved the music and the characters. It was the 15 of their year, and they talked about it for days.

    Near the end of the semester, someone16 on the door of the staff room. The two girls most unwilling to 17 rules in 4B were there—with flowers. I was 18to know I had touched their lives, but they had also touched mine. When I returned to Australia several years later, I still wanted to be a writer. For the first time in my life, I stopped 19and started writing. My first story was 20, My Fair Ladies. Teaching wasn't the end of my writing career; it was the beginning.