I had just picked up my new car, a very beautiful automobile if you're into cars. A few months later, I was involved in an1. That new and very beautiful car was destroyed.

    It was clearly not my2. The other guy was so busy on his cell phone that he went right through a red light and knocked into the passenger side of my car. It was even 3because my niece was asleep on the back seat and her father, my brother, was in the front passenger seat. He was not4, to say the least.

    The police arrived and began taking statements. I 5that my speed had been up to about 55kmph. “So you were going about 50kmph…” he said.

    “No, I said I was doing about 55kmph,” I said.

    “Right, so you were doing about 50kmph…” again he6.

    In a slightly 7tone because I felt I wasn't being heard, I said: “No! I was doing about 55kmph!”

    “OK, if that's 8you want it,” this time the officer simply replied.

    I didn't9 it at the time, but I was shooting myself in the foot. My insurance company paid me for the damages to my car. 10, I totally missed the boat on the other driver's insurance company.

    The city speed limit is 50km. I11 getting 50 percent less than I would have from the other guy's insurance company because I had12 I was doing 55km.

    It suddenly 13me that the traffic policeman had been trying to help me out. He hadn't14 about the 5kmph; he had known15about the insurance that I had not.

    I thought about what had16over and over again. I might have carried on insisting that I told the17, but I could at least have said “Thank you” to him 18 acting so rudely. After all, he had been trying to help me out.

    Sometimes the 19 thing to do is to let other people talk while you simply shut up and listen. Never forget— to20, you have to be able to listen.

    I was 15, She looked like she was over 70. But on that day, I think she 1 me more than anyone else.

    Walking into church that Sunday was 2. I had 3 let anyone see me cry. But I 4 I would cry that day. My grandfather was suddenly ill. The doctors said he might not live much longer. Everyone else in my family was crying. I felt 5 inside, too.

    I went to the 6 that day to pray. There, I 7 a lady sitting at the end of my row. She was smiling. I closed my eyes and8 for my grandfather to get better. Soon, tears came to my eyes. I tried to hold them back so that others wouldn't 9 I brought my head up and opened my eyes. I saw a hand in front of me handing me a10

    The old lady was sitting next to me,11 She didn't say a word. She just gave me a tissue (纸巾) and a smile. I12 to thank her, but only13 came out. Then she took my hand, I looked into her 14 They were clear and blue, and they made me feel 15 Her smile said to me: I am with you. Everything will be 16, I closed my eyes again. When I opened them, she was gone. I never saw her again.

    My grandfather died the next week. We all cried a lot more,17 when I thought of that old lady's warm smile，I felt a little 18.

    How did she know how I was19? I 20 I could see her again, to say thank you.

    It began years ago, after Mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. As her symptom 1, I often had a hard time figuring out what was real and what wasn't in her2. One day I was helping her find some pants that fitted, and she was 3 them on and looking in the mirror. Suddenly she turned and said,4 to her reflection in the mirror, “Well, I like her. She is always really nice to me.”

    It caught me so off guard. There we were doing 5 things, and suddenly she was talking about her reflection as if it were another person. How should I 6? I looked closely, as if there was going to be someone else in that mirror, saying, “Great. I am so glad she's 7to you.”

    Though still in 8 I knew there was no point bringing someone with Alzheimer's back to 9It wasn't, until later that I could 10 that the lady in the mirror was real to Mom.

    Another time I walked in, finding Mom 11 I was going to leave when Mom woke up. “Hi Mom, it's me, Molly, your daughter.” Since Mom may or may not 12 me when we meet, I always identify myself to her.

    That day she remembered me. She 13 my arm slightly and said, “Hi, honey. Come here, I want you to meet someone 14 she leaves.” And so I was reintroduced to the lady in the mirror. I 15 her as if someone were really there, and that was 16for Mom.

    I am glad she loves her17 because she sees herself as a kind being. This is yet another18 my mother has taught me: We should love ourselves and others with the kind of 19 my mom has for her lady in the mirror, even though she doesn't know she is seeing herself, my beautiful, loving, and 20 Mom.

    I often go to France to visit my grandmother who is very dear to me. She's now 76 years old, so every time I go to1 the two of us are very aware that it might be the2time we see each other for she has cancer.

    Last time I visited her in December of 2012. I did a series of short video3about her life. I asked her about her greatest memories and life learning so far, her 4books, food and stories. I learned a large quantity of amazing new things about her I5knew before.

    This year, I did not really have 6 only a great urge for her to know how much she is loved. I cooked for her and read her stories.

    Before leaving, I was7a way to leave something8behind besides the memory of our 9together. So I wrote her five different 10and gratitude notes to let her know how much she11to me, and hid them in different places where I knew she would 12find them. One under her pillow. Another one 13from the lamp cover by which she reads in the evening. Another one by her toothbrush. One in her14which she eagerly checks every day. And the last one on her car's steering wheel.

    I left 15knowing that these cards would surely 16her up after I left. She called me as I was departing for Paris to catch my plane back to the US and said, “I17your three cards! By the time I discovered the third card, I was laughing out loud!18 they did me so much good. Thank you so much!” I19to myself, knowing she still has two more to go! It was Sunday, so my 20was that she had not checked her mailbox and had not yet driven her car!

    “Wanted: Violin. Can't pay much. Call …”

    Why did I notice that? I wondered, since I rarely looked at the classified ads. I laid the paper on my lap and closed my eyes, remembering what had happened during the Great Depression, when my family 1to make a living on our farm. I, too, had wanted a violin, but we didn't have the 2.

    When my older twin sisters began showing an interest in music. Harriet Anne learned to play Grandma's upright piano, 3 Suzanne turned to Daddy's violin, simple tunes soon became 4 melodies as the twins played more and more. 5 in the rhythm of the music, my baby brother danced around while Daddy hummed（哼唱）and Mother whistled. I just 6.

    When my arms grew7 enough, I tried to play Suzanne's violin. I loved the beautiful sound of the firm bow drawn across the strings. Oh, how I wanted one! But I knew it was 8 the question.

    One evening as the twins played in the school orchestra, I closed my eyes tight to capture the picture firmly in my 9. “Someday, I'll sit up there.” I vowed（发誓）10.

    Unfortunately, it was not a 11 year. At harvest the crops did not bring as much as we had hoped. I, however, couldn't 12 any longer to ask, “Daddy, may I have a violin of my own?”

    “Can't you use Suzanne's?”

    “I'd like to be in the orchestra, too, and we can't13 use the same violin at the same time.”

    Daddy's face looked 14. That night, and many following nights, I heard him 15 God in our family prayers, “… and Lord, Mary Lou wants her 16 violin.”

    One evening we all sat around the table. The twins and I studied. Mother sewed and Daddy wrote a letter to his friend, George Finkle, in Columbus. Mr. Frinkle, Daddy said, was a fine 17.

    As he wrote, Daddy read parts of his letter out loud to Mother. Weeks later I 18 he'd written one line he didn't read aloud: “Would you watch for a19 for my third daughter? I can't 20 much, but she enjoys music. And we'd like her to have her own instrument.”

    The day I received my letter of acceptance to New York University, I was extremely excited. It was my dream university, and my1were pleased for me. But they also hadn't2me to get into such a competitive school. In fact, the best thing they ever did for me was to3me from doing things4—indeed, when I was in elementary school, they offered to buy me a present5I got a C.

    It6when I was in third grade. An only child in an Asian family, I had just7with my family from Taiwan to Los Angeles. Months into third grade, I developed a strong feeling of8about getting bad grades. Seeing my anxiety, Dad said, "Kate, tell you what. If you get a C or9, I'll buy you a present. If you score higher than that, I won't buy you anything, because you won't10it."

    Clearly my dad wasn't the11Asian tiger parent, pressuring me to work tirelessly for the best12, and neither was my mom. They didn't want to push me. They wanted me to be13and healthy. Dad's14of a "failing grade" gift amazingly15my worries and pressure. What's more，I16getting A's and B's throughout high school, but without the added stress and fear of failing. I think it was my parents' lack of stress on grades that gave me17to encourage my own desire for achievements.

    I now realize I was18when I thought I didn't receive a present from my dad that day. He gave me two invaluable19: the space to develop my own desire for excellence, and the healthy mind to20it.