In 2000, a tiny goose was left behind by his parents in our driveway. He was too young to fly and join the adults. So, we had to bring him onto our back porch to ensure his safety. A week later, the young goose had clearly decided we were his new family. We called the little guy Peeper.

A year passed and we were accustomed to the life of taking care of him. Peeper slept on our back porch each night. My dad would spray off all the goose’s droppings daily. Part of this ritual(例行的事)included dad throwing Peeper up into the air so he could fly a loop around the house, coming back again once the porch was clean. One evening, my dad threw him up again, but this time, Peeper just flew off and never back again. Twenty years passed, and Peeper became a fond memory for my family.

Geese live to be around 25 years old, are very loyal, and never forget their first home. Even so, it came as a total shock to me when, in 2019, an aging adult goose made his way back to my family home. At first, I assumed it was just another goose. And yet, something about the lone male seemed oddly familiar to me.

After two weeks of the goose coming back repeatedly, it became clear to me that this wasn't a random goose. He did all of the same things Peeper used to, like trying to come in through the front door and sleeping in our enclosed pool area. In addition to looking like Peeper's old ways, this goose also responded to the name Peeper. Much to my amazement, my old best friend had returned, 20 years later.

This experience has been as meaningful to me as anything in my life. I hope that my children, someday, have the opportunity to connect with nature and a wild being in this same way. People long for connection with the natural world. Through Peeper, I have learned so much about myself and about the nature of love.

This year I did something I once swore I'd never do—shopping at midnight on Black Friday. I know, I'm crazy. So why would I bear three things I resent—traffic, cold weather, and crowds—for a few bargains? Teenagers.

I have two of them, and I love them with my whole heart, even though, for them, spending time with Mom is usually down on their list next to homework and picking up the dog waste. I am no longer the one with whom they want to share a secret, play a game, or just hang out. So, when they asked me to take them shopping at midnight on Black Friday, my first reaction was definitely no! But my son, who usually runs the other way if I mention shopping, wanted me to take him shopping. I felt needed.

There was an hour's car ride. We belted out songs on the radio, laughing at who got the words wrong and who was off key. We talked about the deals we hoped to score. The kids quarreled back and forth as usual, and I had to keep the peace. That's what moms do.

Once inside, we had to work as a team, one going this way, one the other, hoping to come together with just the right size and color. Searching for a particular shirt for my husband was proving to be a losing battle as I dug through pile after pile of untidy clothing. Giving up in defeat, I turned to see my daughter coming toward me, shirt in hand and victory on her face. "I got the last one!”

So we got out at 3 a. m. with some bargains. But for me, I got so much more. Quality time with my kids. Driving home, I looked in the rearview mirror at my children's sweet faces, both sleeping in the car like they did when they were little. If they ask me to go again next year, I'm in.

A few years ago, I took a sightseeing trip to Washington, DC. I saw many of our nation’s treasures, and I also saw a lot of citizens on the street — unfortunate ones, like beggars and homeless folks.

Standing outside the Ronald Reagan Center, I heard a voice ask. “Can you help me?” When I turned around, I saw an old blind woman with her hand extended. In a natural reflex (自然反射), I reached into my pocket, pulled out all of my loose change and placed it in her hand without even looking at her. I hated being disturbed by a beggar.

But the blind woman smiled and said: “I don’t want your money. I just need help finding the post office.” In an instant, I realized what I had done. I had acted with prejudice (偏见) — I had judged another person simply for what I thought she had to be.

I hated what I saw in myself. This incident brought back my central belief. It reminded me that I believed in being humble (卑下的), even though I’d lost that belief for a moment.

The thing I had forgotten about myself is that I am an immigrant (移民). I left Honduras and arrived in the US at the age of 15. I started my new life with two suitcases, my brother, my sister and a strong mother. Through the years, I have been a dish washer, roofer, mechanic, cashier and pizza delivery driver, among many other humble jobs. Eventually, I became a network engineer.

In my own life, I have experienced many acts of prejudice. I remember a time at age 17 — I was busboy (餐馆工), and I heard a father tell his little boy that if he did not do well in school, he would end up like me. I have also seen the same treatment of family and friends, so I know what it’s like, and I should have known better.

But now, living my American middle-class lifestyle, it is too easy to forget my past, to forget who I am and where I have been, and to lose sight of where I want to go. The blind woman cured me of my blindness. She reminded me of my belief in being humble, and to always keep my eyes and heart open.

By the way, I helped that lady to the post office. And in writing this essay, I hope to thank her for the priceless lesson she gave me.