When I was eight, I wrote my first poem. My mother read and cried, “Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful poem!” Shyly, but1, I said yes. She poured out her 2.“It was nothing short of talent!”“What time will Father be home?” I asked. I could 3 wait to show my work to him. I spent quite some time 4 for his arrival. I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish(花体字), drew a fancy border around it and 5 I placed it right on my father's plate on the dining table. My father had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. I was sure he would be able to 6 my poem.

    At almost 7 o'clock my father burst in. He seemed 7. He circled the dining-room table, complaining about his employees. 8 he paused and glared at his plate. “What is this?” He's reaching for my poem. “Ben, Buddy has written his first poem!” my mother began. “And it's beautiful, absolutely amaze...” “If you don't mind, I'd like to decide for myself.” Father said. I 9 my head as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. Then I heard him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of 10. “I think it's terrible,” he said. I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting 11.

    “Ben, these are the first lines of poetry he's ever written,” my mother was saying. “He needs encouragement.” “I don't know why.” My father held his ground. “Isn't there enough 12 poetry in the world already?” I couldn't 13it another second. I ran from the dining room crying. Up in my room I 14 myself on the bed and cried the worst of the disappointment out of me.

    That may have been the end of the story, but not of its 15 for me. I realized how 16 I had been. I had a mother who said, “I think it's wonderful!” and a father who drove me to hear with “I think it's awful.” Every one of us needs that mother force, from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is 17. It needs the balance of the force that 18, “Watch. Listen. Review. Improve.”

    Those 19 voices of my childhood ring in my ears through the years, like two opposing winds blowing me. 20 the two poles of confirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.

    I was walking in a park on a cool autumn morning. The view was charming and a pleasant breeze(微风)was kissing my face1.

    Then I saw a mother and her little baby. The mother wore2clothes that seemed to be found in a dustbin—how easy it is for fortunate people to 3away things they don't need, and they do this 4thinking of the unfortunate! She was holding her baby, protecting her from the morning 5and expecting some money from strangers so that she could 6food for both of them. It isn't an uncommon7as we see these things every day. But they sometimes can_8us strongly. It was then that I realized how9I had been in my whole life for living a rich life.

    Then a man 10some money and food to the mother, and as she took them, her face was11as if she had been the happiest person in the world. And why not, she could now 12her baby at least for the day.

    Actually happiness doesn't 13luck, your financial or your physical conditions, but only on yourself. It is just a 14in your hands. If you choose to be happy,15 can stop you from it. The mother was happy just16she got food for her baby. Back home, I decided to first be happy and then do the rest of my work. It was17than I thought it would be.

    How18it is that one observation cam change your life! Life has a lot to offer if you observe very19One who observes can 20real happiness.

A Doll from Santa

    Alice's mother died when she was five years old. That year was 1925, and life was hard. Alice, who grew up to be my mother, told me that her family was too 1to even afford to give her a doll.

    One afternoon in December 1982, I was decorating the tree to prepare for the Christmas season. A young lady 2me with a sample of her handiwork: beautiful handmade 3. She was taking orders for Christmas. I decided to get one for my daughter, Katie, who was almost five years old. Then I had an idea. I asked the lady if she could make me a 4doll for my mother — one with gray hair and a pair of glasses: a grandmother doll.

    The doll maker felt that this idea was certainly 5and took it on as a creative challenge. So I placed my Christmas 6: two dolls, one blonde and one gray-haired for Christmas morning! Things really started to fall into place 7a friend had told me that his dad, who played Santa Claus in my area, would be willing to make a visit on Christmas morning to our home to 8my Katie her presents!

    Christmas Day arrived and at the planned time, 9did Santa Claus. Katie was delighted that Santa had come to see her at her 10house, the happiest I had ever seen her in her young life. My mother was enjoying watching her granddaughter's 11to the visit from this special guest. As Santa turned to leave, he looked once more into his bag and took out one more 12. As he asked who Alice was, my mother, surprised by her name being called, 13that she in fact was Alice. Santa handed her the gift, which was accompanied by a message card that read: For Alice,

    I was cleaning out my sleigh before my 14this year and came across this package that was supposed to be delivered on December 25, 1925. The present inside has 15, but I felt that you might 16wish to have it. Many apologies for the17of the gift.

    Love, Santa Claus

    My mother's reaction was one of the greatest deeply 18scenes I have ever witnessed. She couldn't speak but only gazed at the doll she had 19fifty-seven years as tears of joy running down her cheeks. That doll, given by “Santa”, made my mother the happiest “20” alive.

Rediscovery

    I used to be a happy child with a loving family and many friends. I had a1 that could brighten a cold winter day and I had a special love for life.

    At twelve, my life had a huge breakdown. It was then that I2OCD (强迫症). I started to wash my hands ten times an hour, and I constantly3my kitchen oven to make sure that it was off. This way of life continued for four painful years, and by then, my OCD had led to depression (抑郁). I was no longer the4little girl I had been.

    In the tenth grade I finally5to my mother that I was suffering from depression along with my OCD. My mom took me to a doctor and I started taking6. Over a few months, the medicine did help the OCD, but I still was struggling with depression.

    One autumn evening, I hit rock bottom. I thought suicide (自杀) was the only7to my depression problem, so I decided to write a suicide note. As I was8it, my eyes fell on a photo. It was a9of an adorable little girl, wearing her red soccer uniform and holding a bike helmet. She had a bright smile that showed she was full of life.

    It took me a few minutes to10who the girl in the photo was. The photo had been taken when I was seven years old. I almost couldn't believe that smiling child was me. I felt a chill go down my spine (脊柱). It was like my younger self had sent me a11. Right then and there I knew I couldn't kill myself. Once I had been a strong little girl, and I had to become12like that again.

    I tore up my suicide note and13that I would not rely only on my medicine. I would have to fight the depression with my mind, too. I could make myself happy again.

    It has been two years since I14myself. The real reason I am healed is that I took action and refused to let depression15my life. I learned a lifelong16: Never give up. Everyone has challenges in life, but everyone can17. I am living proof of that.

    Now I am prepared for whatever18life may bring. I have a role model to19up to for strength, and who is guiding me20life. My hero is a seven-year-old girl, smiling back at me from a photo on my desk.

    It was 1972, and I was in second grade. In the classroom the teacher, Ms. Boyette, was 1 aloud to us from Island of the Blue Dolphins. And we had just come to a part of the book where the main 2 was training a wild dog. I was listening, caught up in the 3 of all.

    Not far away from me, there seated a boy who always frightened or 4 others, so I was 5 of this boy. While Ms. Boyette was reading, I looked over at him, for he was someone I was in the 6 of keeping an eye on. I 7 that he was listening too, that he was engaged by the 8 , that he was leaning forward in his seat and listening with all his heart. I 9 at him, open-mouthed. I was 10 with a sudden knowledge that this boy was in fact just 11 me. He was a kid who liked a story. The boy must 12 my eyes on him, because he turned. Then something 13 happened. He smiled at me. 14, I smiled back, unafraid. We were two 15 smiling at each other.

    Why have I never forgotten this 16 moment? Why do I still 17 every detail of it? I think it's because that moment illustrates so beautifully the 18of reading out loud.

    It shows us into a safe room, where everyone involved, the reader and the listener, can have that chance to 19 each other. We humans long not just for the story, not just for the flow of language, but for the 20 that comes when words are read aloud.

    "Mom, I don't like you," my two-year-old son said.

    "Okay… is that 1 you love me?" I asked.

    "No, you're not lovely."

    That night, as I washed my face, I 2 a little longer in the mirror—not because I was hurt by his 3, but because I noticed there was no light in my 4.

    I took out a pen and started writing a list—a list to 5 myself; a list to put sparkle（火花）back into my eyes. I once made many lists but 6 accomplished anything. This time would be 7!

    The first goal on my list I wanted to achieve was 8 a Polar Plunge to raise money for the Special Olympics. On that day, when I 9 into my 1980s workout clothes, Jack smiled, "Mom, you look 10." Maybe, just maybe some light 11 my eyes.

    When coming out of the cold lake I felt happy and proud. I kept screaming, "I 12 it !" But one of the most exciting parts of the day was when I stood in front of my 13, which was taped on the refrigerator door. I 14 item number one. With that, I began to take back my life.

    Everyone taking part in the Polar Plunge received a 15. Whenever I wore it, Jack asked, "Is that your Polar Plunge clothing?" I answered 16, "Yes!" "I want to do that too." I was happy he remembered I jumped into a 17 lake, and that he wanted to do activities with me.

    With each 18 crossed off（划掉） the list, a piece of myself is 19. Not only am I showing my family it's important to 20, but I'm showing myself that I'm worth it.