It had been a long time since I had been to Jacksonville, Florida. I had driven to town 1to find the old barber shop where my hair had been cut as a child. As I 2around, I was a little disappointed to see the old buildings had been3with new high-rise ones.

    After walking about a block I saw an open shoe store. Wondering whether I could get the 41walked in. As I stood talking to the salesman, the front door opened and a young man about twenty came into the store in a 5 “I need a new pair of shoes,” said the6As he turned the corner, I was 7to see that the young man had no legs.

    Seeing us 8 the young man said, “When I was a 9my parents used to buy me a new pair of shoes every year. That was such a wonderful feeling—10I have never forgotten.”

    Soon the salesman came with a large box. He put it down on the floor, took out a boot and handed it to the young man. Placing the boot 11his nose, the boy closed both eyes, and took a large breath. I did not know what to say as tears began to roll down his 12.

    Suddenly we heard the salesman shouting to an old man 13who looked in the window from time to time. The young man looked at the old man and then turned to me. “Would you walk out and see what14that fellow wears?” he 15.

    Wondering why, I 16walked to the front door, opened it and asked the old man to17“What size shoes do you wear?” the boy asked the man. “I don't know,” he replied, as he18his old tennis shoes. “I would say nine and a half,” I suggested. “What's your19hiking boot in nine and a half?” the boy asked the salesman. Within a minute. The salesman returned with a pair of hiking boots. The boy 20out, took the boot, placed it to his nose and took a large breath. Once again, tears came to his eyes. “Sir, would you mind trying on these boots?” the boy asked the old fellow.

    My parents always made extra Christmas specials for my sisters and me. Of course the big 1 was that my sisters and I would run down the stairs to see our Christmas tree surrounded by mountains of 2. We got bikes, microscopes, cameras, and 3 else a kid might want. They were great, though I didn't 4 appreciate all that my parents did. It was quite common for me to be trapped in 5 the endless gifts. As a result, I'm unable to remember everything I 6.

    As my husband Joe and I were ready to welcome our first child 7 the world, we thought about how to give Christmas gifts in advance. Finally we 8 the decision to set the three-gift 9 for our holiday celebrations. I had ever 10 about the idea in a few magazine articles. And I really liked how it made the 11 decide the things they truly wanted. Mostly, I loved the idea of 12 our holiday. I would see my kids get the same 13 of gifts. I expected a Christmas day when we could actually 14 each other's company, as well as the gifts and the spirit that our children were given.

    15 those ideas that Joe and I came up with before they were born, such as never letting them eat junk food, or 16 TV time to only one hour a day, the three-gift rule is one thing that 17 the test of time. We've done it each year since Tom was born 18 years ago, 18 it's actually done in the way that we had hoped. Joe and I are less 19 because we just need to focus on giving each child the top three things that they desire. And we find the kids do 20and enjoy the gifts.

    William Weaver was one of 14 black students integrating(使融合进入) the all—white West High School. A teacher told him that he “didn't belong.” He had a test and the teacher 1 him and then just took the paper away and said, “ 2 is up.” The first report card he got was 3 F's. So he started to think maybe he didn't belong and that he was 4 .

    One evening he was at home and Edward Hill, his science teacher from the 5 school, came by to visit. Weaver told Mr Hill that the white school were trying to 6 him away. Mr Hill asked Weaver to come to his old school after 7 . So every day waiting for him would be Mr. Hill with other teachers and they 8 him. Once he got past those F's, he stopped 9 himself. But no matter what he did, he was never 10 at that school. Weaver never had a 11 with a counselor(辅导员)about going to college. But, to his 12 , he got a letter telling him he had been awarded a scholarship. Weaver 13 it and went on to 14 Howard University.

    Many years 15 , Weaver came across Mr Hill and told him, “Mr Hill, if I had not gotten that 16 , I don't know what would have happened. And I don't know 17 I got the scholarship because I never even applied for it.” Mr Hill said, “I know, because I filled in the 18 and sent it off for you.” So Mr Hill stepped 19 and changed his life, 20 at that time Weaver didn't realize how much he was being helped.

    Last summer, I had just enough money saved to buy a golden ticket—a 3-month train pass that would take me to the furthest reaches of Europe. Excited for my journey, I 1 all the necessary stuff-2 the guidebook.

    While the 3 of the Internet was definitely a 4 factor to my decision, this was not the only reason I decided to fly 5.

    To be honest, I find the guidebook6 a journey﹣like a bossy aunt who is always telling you what to do,7 she doesn't always know what's best.8 has taught me that there is a clear 9 between a tourist and a traveler.

    While waiting in a queue to see Michelangelo's Statue of David in Florence, I met a man who showed me his 10 of "Top 20 Things to do in Italy" and told us 11 that he'd "seen" everything Italy has to 12 in just four days.

    The problem I had with this man's way of 13 was that he was too focused on 14 the boxes provided by his guidebook. He was 15 in the so﹣called "must﹣sees" and blind to all that was happening somewhere else.

    So, guidebook﹣less as we were, my companion and I traveled to Estonia. Arriving for no good reason, we had no option but to 16 some friendly faces for advice. We 17 ourselves and asked them what was happening around town. When this resulted in an 18 to a beautiful Estonian home by a river where we enjoyed a 110﹣degree wood﹣stove sauna（桑拿）,19 picked forest﹣mushrooms and the good 20 of our five new﹣found Estonian friends, we sure were glad we had left our bossy aunt at home.

    Nick was not the kind of boy I had expected to spend my summer with. I was hoping to have a1the summer before my busy senior year, but my mother asked me to do her a2. One of her colleagues needed a full-time3. "You planned to volunteer at the local hospital, why not volunteer to4Nick instead?" Then she told me that this six-year-old boy was not a5 child.

    Nick was a lovely little boy who suffered from many disorders. Normal day-care centers would not6him. As a baby, he had serious ear infections which left him with equilibrium(平衡) problems.

    He couldn't7or run properly. I was8if I was to take the job when my mother9.

    "Don't you want to be a nurse in the future? I doubt if you even have the10."

    Then I told her I was11for the job.

    The day started at 7:00 a.m. Nick was my wake-up call! With so much energy and very little 12, he was quite a mix.

    At the park, when he saw all the other children play on the jungle gym and swings(秋千), the boy's face 13up—How he wished he belonged to the group of his age! You would think it would be 14to get a child to go down a slide. Believe me, it wasn't! It took time, a lot of time. But with patience and support. Nick took one step up the slide each day. We worked together to face his 15and gradually he got closer to taking the slide of his life.

    Halfway through the summer, he16it to the top of the slide. With my arms holding him tightly, we flew down the slide! I waited for his17. After realizing that he was safe and sound, he gave me a big18and asked, "May I go down again, alone?"

    I had never been happier in my life when I saw this little child climb the ladder and enjoy what other children19for granted.

    This20child taught me that being a nurse means respect, kindness and patience.

For about three years now, I have been writing poetry. It was not until my junior year in high school that I developed an interest, love and skill for writing poetry. 

Back in elementary school, I loved to write stories. I would write stories on post-it notes and anywhere I could. Yet when I had to write a limerick(五行打油诗) for an assignment, I could not wrap my head around poetry. I had a very hard time figuring out how to rhyme words and have the words make sense. I eventually tossed the paper with the attempted limerick in the trash. I did not try my hand at poetry again until several years later. 

Many years later in my freshman year of high school, my English teacher gave my class a poetry project as an assignment. I still remember my limerick assignment and was afraid of doing the poetry project. For the project, we had to analyse a poem and write a response to it. I chose to respond to Robert Frost's poem Fire and Ice. I also wrote my own poem first. I became really excited when writing the poem. 

Two years later, I started writing poetry as a hobby and for fun. To learn how good or bad my poems were, I handed them in to some magazines and contests. I won the second place in the North Carolina Poetry Society's Sherry Pruitt Award Contest, and had my two poems published as high quality poems. I have continued to write poetry, and have even self-published three collections of poetry in both print and e-book formats, which can be found in my store on Lulu. 

Now, I love writing poetry, but I don't hate writing short stories. I just find it more difficult and not my style of writing, even though I still write short stories occasionally.