The message was short. I read it three times: "Hey, Mom, can I come to see you guys?"I wrote back: "Yes!”He said he hoped to make it in time for dinner.　

 I made a quick run to the market, put sheets on the guest bed and set the TV to record the Warriors' game, so if traffic was awful, he wouldn't have to miss the first half. Then I began cooking, cleaning, watching the clock and listening for his footsteps coming up the walk.

 It's called waiting. I'm good at it. When he was a newborn, I'd wait for him to go to sleep. Soon then I'd stand by his bed waiting for him to wake up. I waited, as he learned to do things like walking , talking and feeding himself; throwing a ball, riding a bike and reading a book.

 I waited for him to start preschool, primary school, middle school and college.

 I waited with dread for him to start driving. And I waited up every time he came home late.

I wait for my son to grow up, but that doesn't mean the waiting game is over. It never really ends.

 Mothers wait for all kinds of reasons—good news or bad, happiness or heartache. But the waiting is soon forgotten, usually, the minute a long awaited child walks through the door.

 My boy will be here soon. But if he's late, I can wait. I'm good at it. And he's worth it. I will always leave a light on for him. 

    "Be proud of what you do," my father always told me, "whether you are a boss or a cleaner." When I was 15, I got a summer job in a hospital. I was told that my duties would include sweeping floors. I smiled and remembered Dad's words.

    Even though my job was the lowest, it made me feel excited. I saw it as a challenge because it was my first job. I learned to be on time and tried to do everything well. In return, I was treated with respect(尊敬) by doctors, nurses and patients. Each morning I imagined that the dirty dishes would make patients sicker if I were not there to wash them clean. After breakfast was done, I started sweeping the floors of all patient rooms and cleaning toilets. Though I was tired, I wanted the job to be done well. People would say, "That young boy really does a good job." That gave me pride.

    Working in the hospital taught me that being proud of one's job is important. It does not matter whether the job is sweeping floors or managing a large business. Through every job I have ever had, my father's words have always stayed with me. I have swept floors, and I have been a manager. I think Dad would be proud of me.

    People say that one person can't really make a difference, but I don't believe that. If all of us just do "one" thing like the following three heroes, we will make a difference.

Super Girl

    When she was 7, Brooklyn Wright wrote The Adventures of the Earth Saver Girl. In the book, a girl learns she has the power to make the Earth free from rubbish. She calls her Super Girl and tries her best to save the Earth. Brooklyn Wright has visited more than100 schools to teach students about pollution. Last year, she received a Gloria Barron Prize for Young Heroes for her work.

A Voice for Elephants

    Many elephants are being killed for their ivory. After learning the facts, China's Celia Ho, 14, decided to take action. By making posters and writing letters to newspapers, she hopes more people will learn about the problem.

Turning Cooking Oil into Fuel

    Jane Lin didn't start out "to be green" .At first, she was worried about her neighbor who couldn't afford heat in winter. At a science expo, she saw someone turning old cooking oil into fuel. Suddenly, she came up with a plan to collect old cooking oil for the poor family. So far she has collected about 21, 000 gallons of fuel for 210 families. At the same time, she helps reduce the emission（排放） of CO₂  and other greenhouse gases.

    He was 11 years old and went fishing every chance he got at his family's small house on an island in the middle of a New Hampshire lake.

    On the day before the bass(鲈鱼)season opened, he and his father were fishing early in the evening, catching sunfish and bass with worms. Before long, when his pole doubled over, he knew something huge was on the other end. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully worked the fish alongside the bank and he very successfully lifted the tired fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a bass.

    The boy and his father looked at the handsome fish, the fish jumped up and down in the moonlight. The father looked at his watch. It was 10 P.M.—two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. "You will have to put it back, my son," he said. "I have never seen such a big fish before." cried the boy. "There will be other fish," said his father. "The boy looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were anywhere around in the moonlight. He looked again at his father. Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish, the boy could tell by his father's voice that the decision was not be changed. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass and lowered it into the black water.

    That was 34 years ago. And he has never again caught such a beautiful fish as the one he landed that night long ago. But he does see the fish again and again—every time he comes up against a question of ethics(伦理). For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.

    We would if we were taught to put the fish back when we were young. For we would have learned the truth. The decision to do right lives fresh in our memory. It is a story we will proudly tell our friends and grandchildren.