We look at the world around us everyday, but somehow we don't manage to see it until what we've become used to suddenly disappeared. That's to say that you may get used to some places and some 1 around you. For example, the neatly-dressed woman I used to see --or look at on my way to work each 2.

    For three years, no matter 3the weather was like, she was always waiting at the bus stop around 8:00 a.m. On 4 days, she wore heavy clothes and a pair of woolen gloves. Summertime turn out clean cotton dresses and a hat pulled low over her sunglasses. 5, she was an ordinary working woman. Of course, I 6all this only after she was seen no more. It was then that I realized how 7I expected to see her each morning. You might say I 8her.

    "Did she have an accident? Something 9?" I thought to myself about her disappearance. Now that she was gone, I felt I had 10her. I began to realize that part of our  11life probably includes such chance meetings with familiar strangers: the milkman you see at dawn, the woman who 12walks her dog along the street ever morning, the twin brothers you see at the library. Such people are 13markers in our lives. They add weight to our 14 of places and belongings.

    Think about it, while walking to work, 15we mark where we are by passing a certain building, why not mark where we are when we pass a familiar, though unnamed , person?

    One day a young lady was driving along with her father. They met a strong 1, and the young lady 2 her father. "What should I do?" Her father said. "Keep driving. "

But later. many cars began to pull over (向路边停靠)3  the storm was getting worse and worse. "What should I do?" the young lady asked her father again. "Keep driving. " her father replied 4  the same answer.

    After driving a few miles, she 5  that more cars were also pulling over. She told her father. "I must pull over. I can 6  see ahead. It is terrible, and everyone is pulling over!" Her father told her. "Don't give up. Just keep driving. "

    After a couple of miles she was again on dry land. 7 the sun came out. Her father said. "Now you can pull over and get out. " She asked. "8  now?" Her father said. "Look back at all the people that gave up. They are 9 in the storm. Because you didn't give up your storm is now over. "

    When you 10 hard times, keep going and soon your storm will be over and the sun will shine upon your face again.

    Rose didn't see her school IC card at lunch time. She asked her classmates and looked for it everywhere. But she couldn't 1 it. Later, one girl said that she saw Kate take a card from Rose's desk. So Rose got very 2. When she met Kate in the afternoon, Rose 3, "You have stolen(偷) my card! "Hearing this, Kate began to cry, "No, no, I didn't steal it! I only took it by4." But Rose didn't think so and they began to fight.

    Just then a teacher came up and 5 what had happened. Kate told the whole story. She said her pen pal came to see her in the morning. She was so 6 that she took the card carelessly. Then they went for lunch happily. "I used the card, but I had thought it was mine. I didn't know it was Rose's 7 she asked. I was too afraid to explain it to her. So I decided to put the 8 back with some money secretly. I am sorry, Rose." Kate said in a low 9.

    "It's just a misunderstanding(误会) !" said the teacher. Tears(泪水) came into Rose's eyes. Then she said, "I was 10 sorry, Kate! I hope we are still good friends."

My crafty(鬼点子多的) child was driving me crazy the other day. That afternoon, I was busy getting the house ready for guests to arrive. When I walked across the entrance( 入 口 ). I found a piece of folded paper1 on the recently-swept floor. 

"Paul must try to carry waste paper from the living room to the rubbish can and 2 a few pieces, " I sighed(叹气), picking them up. 

Moments later, I passed through the entrance again and found 3 paper. No quiet sighing this time, I4 , "Who is throwing rubbish around the entrance?"

No answer. 5 , I saw more bits of paper silently flying down from upstairs. Looking up, I saw my seven-year-old son6 over the stairs. 

"Paul!" I cried tiredly. "Stop making a/an 7 . " Paul looked at the paper bits falling quietly to the floor. "It's not. They're butterflies. " He ran down the stairs to 8 his papers. "Where are my other butterflies?" he asked, looking around. 

Every time Paul puts five or more words together, I can't help saying 9 from the bottom of my heart. For the first three years of his life, there were no words; the next three years, he still could10 put two words together. But lately he seems to realize that the advantage( 好 处 ) of forming11 sentences is worth his effort when communicating. 

Butterflies. Of course. I rushed into the kitchen to 12 them from the rubbish and hand  them to Paul. 

"Want to see them fly again?" he asked. "Oh, yes! They are beautiful, Paul. " I agreed. 

He ran back upstairs to fly his paper down again. I watched them fly softly down 13 me. 

They really did look like beautiful butterflies. 

That day Paul made me look up at14 instead of looking down at rubbish. Life is not what happens to us but it is 15 we look at it. 

Mama was calling to me. I started awake, realizing it must be nearly midnight. "Mary," she said 1 , "Where's your homework?" Then I remembered I had not finished my homework. "Oh, Mama, I fell asleep," I told her weakly. "Well, your 2 comes first! You'd better finish your work." She said. I dragged myself out of bed. As I did so, I could not help feeling 3 . Why me? Those feelings were nothing new, but I did not give voice to them. With Mama, you didn't argue. You just 4 . I finished my work and gave it to her to check.

I remember when Ann and I walked barefoot to school one fine September day because our 5 had worn out and there wasn't enough money for Mama to buy us new ones. The headmaster asked us to go home, for he couldn't have students attending school barefoot. I suggested to Ann that 6 spend the day in a nearby farm instead. Just about the time school was over we went home. There was Mama, waiting for us. I 7 a story rather than let her down. Then she started crying. It was 8 that she knew everything. She told us never to be 9 of being poor. "The most important is not what you 10 , but who you are", said Mama.

Mama's strictness with me always made me feel as if I pleased her less than her other children. However, the 11 that I got has guided me for many years. I have come to be 12 for the value of Mama's strict requests. Still, one question continued to 13 me for more than 30 years. Then one day I asked her 14 she was always so much stricter with me than others. She looked at me straight in the eyes and said, "I had to be harder on you because you had more gifts. It was more important for you to get all the schooling you could because I just knew that many other people would be depending on you to do your best. "I 15 , Mama." At last I did.