“I’m not putting up a Christmas tree this year. I just don’t have the spirit,” my husband Bill’s mom said sadly over the phone.

My husband’s parents used to have a big Christmas. There were many lights in their yard, decorations hanging from the ceiling, a big well-decorated, freshly cut tree, etc. It was amazing.

But this year would be different. With Bill’s dad passing late that November, it was understandable that his mom’s holiday spirit was nonexistent. Christmas decorating had been something husband and wife had undertaken together for over fifty years, and she simply would not do it alone.

Still, it was heartbreaking to think that not even a tree would decorate their home this year. Phone calls were made to Mom and conversations were made with her children and grandchildren in order to try to bring back her holiday spirit. Yet, it was no use.

That season, every Christmas song I heard in the stores only made me sadder as I thought of the barren (荒芜的) spot in Mom’s heart. There had to be something that could be done to bring some joy back into her life.

One afternoon, while passing a discount store, I saw many fresh green tabletop trees. They were so beautiful. Then I got an idea. I walked into the store, and selected a multi-colored string of lights and many other decorations I could find. Then I grabbed the largest tree, paid for all the things and walked home with four bags in one hand and a tree in the other.

I couldn’t imagine what I looked like, out in the cold, carrying a tree for half a mile. I only knew I felt a boost in my own heart — a boost I hoped Mom would also feel when I delivered the tree to her. And I wanted her to know that if Dad had still been alive, he would have wished her to be happy. If he had seen her unhappy, he would have been sad.

When I got home, Bill saw the tree. I told him that I would give it to Mom.

But he shook his head, saying, “I wouldn’t give this to her. She’s not going to like it…”

Just when Bill and I secretly put the tree in Mom’s yard, the door suddenly flew open.

In 2000, when I was around seven years old, my parents, sister, brother, and I were coming back from a picnic. That was our usual weekend adventure, but unlike every other weekend, a surprise was waiting for us in our driveway. There, we saw two adult geese (鹅) and a young goose. The adults were surprised by our return and flew away, but their baby was still too young to fly and couldn’t follow. We are no strangers to the ways of wildlife, so we knew to avoid physical contact with the young goose out of fear that it would stay with us and be lost to its family forever.

Hours passed, and night fell. With it came the coldness. The tiny little thing was walking around our yard and it was clear that the goose needed protection and warmth. At that point, we knew we had to help, аnd wе brоught hіm іntо оur bасk роrсh (门廊).

We all pretty much slept with one eye open till morning came. And then another morning. And still another. Each morning, we would try to shoo (赶走) the goose to his parents, who kept coming back to our yard. He wouldn’t go to them, though, and they wouldn’t come close enough to take him. We kept this up for five days, but no luck. By then, the young goose had clearly decided we were his new family, so we had to give him a name. My sister Joanna called him Peeper, because he would follow us around the yard making a peeping noise, nonstop. We also decided that Peeper was a boy. I don’t know why; it just felt right.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months until almost a year passed. Peeper slept in our back porch each night. My dad would clean all the goose droppings daily. He would throw Peeper up into the air so he could fly a loop (圈) around the house, coming back again once the porch was clean.

My dad was the gentlest， most loving and caring dad in the world-until we had an argument． During those moments， my words surely never reached his "open mind" because his ears were closed． There was no point trying to argue with my dad． He always had the last word． I could never win．

At one time， when my father refused to understand that I needed the privacy of a phone in my room， my frustration turned to tears． He ended our "discussion"， leaving me silently defeated and miserable． With the hope that his eyes would be more open than his ears， I began to write a note that began with "Dear Daddy"． In a most touching tone， I told him how much I respected his opinion， and how much I hated to talk back to him． 1 stressed that I cherished our relationship and， above all， I loved him deeply． It was only minutes before I heard a knock at my door． When I saw the look on my father's face， I knew that my note had melted his temper and touched his heart． The victory of winning my dad's permission was sweet．

This morning I woke up at a text message from one of my best friends， which said "Who's excited for a snow day？" My initial reaction was why on earth we would have a snow day． It was not supposed to snow last night． My second reaction was that that was not true． So I called my dad to make sure whether what I heard was correct． Sure enough it was． After finding this news out， I fell back asleep almost immediately． My dad had said to call him when I woke up． About two hours passed， and I woke up， calling him as planned． No answer． I figured he was just out for business， so I left a message． I called him multiple times on his work， house， and cell phones． Still， no answer． Around noon I got worried． He should have answered something by now． Thinking of his suffering a stomach flu two weeks ago， I decided I would go to make sure he was okay．

At once， I called my mom and told her what had happened．