It was a Saturday afternoon. The color of the sky was changing, first light gray, then dark gray, and finally dark and dense. The wind was blowing heavily, and the trees were swaying in the strong wind. It began to rain cats and dogs. Soon, the road was filled with puddles from the rain.

On such a stormy afternoon, my mother took my five-year-old brother, Christopher, and me to a new big toy store she had read about in the newspaper. “So many toys,” the advertisement had shouted in full and flashy color, “that we had to get a huge warehouse to fit them all!”

Christopher and I couldn’t have been more excited. We ran across the parking lot, through the cold and biting rain, as fast as our little legs could carry us. We left our mother outside to battle with the frustrating umbrella, which never worked when she wanted it to. “Christine! Take care of your young brother!” Mother shouted at the top of her voice.

“Christine! I’m going to find the Lego section (乐高积木区)! There’s a new pirate ship I want, and I have four dollars! Maybe I can buy it!” Christopher exclaimed and ran off excitedly. I only half heard him. I took a right turn and, to my wide-eyed delight, found myself in the midst of the Barbie (芭比) World.

I was studying a Barbie and doing some simple math in my head when suddenly an earthshaking clap of thunder roared from the storm outside. I jumped at the noise, dropping the doll to the floor. The lights flickered (闪烁) once and died, covering everything in a blanket of blackness. Thunder continued to shake the sky and lightning illuminated the store for seconds, casting frightening shadows on my mind.

When I was little, I lived in a house with a beautiful garden full of all kinds of flowers, and roses were the most beautiful of them. There was nothing I enjoyed more than sitting in the garden with my mother as she read stories to me. When I was in primary school and old enough to read, I enjoyed reading stories aloud to her.

I will never forget one day when I was in the third grade. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had rehearsed (排练) my lines (台词) so hard with me. But no matter how easily I acted at home, as soon as I stepped on stage, every word disappeared from my head. Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator’s (旁白) part to the play, and asked me to change roles. Her word, kindly expressed, still hurt, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home after school that day. But she sensed my pain. Instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to take a walk in the garden.

It was May and roses were blossoming and, under the trees, we could also see yellow dandelions (蒲公英) in the grass. “I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds,” she said, pulling one dandelion up by its roots. “From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden.”

“But I like dandelions,” I protested. “All flowers are beautiful — even dandelions.”

My mother looked at me seriously. “Yes, every flower is beautiful in its own way, isn’t it?” she asked thoughtfully. I nodded, pleased that I had won her over. “And that is true of people too,” she added. “Not everyone can be a princess, but there is no shame in that.” Aware that she had guessed my pain, I started to cry as I told her what had happened. She listened and smiled gently.

“But you will be a beautiful narrator,” she said.

After the play, I took home the flower.

One day last week I woke up in a bad mood. Why? We were out of coffee. I was late paying a bill. My favorite clock had just stopped working. I even forgot to say “good morning” to my husband Bob. After all, we’ve been waking up together for 32 years. As usual, we both got out of bed and headed right to our desks.

I checked e-mail and replied to people who were complaining about rainy days as if we were all living

“Hello Saralee. My wife Donna pointed out an article by you she found moving. It brought her to tears.

When I saw his name on this current e-mail, I was hoping to read more about his loving marriage. He wrote: “Two days ago my wife fell down a flight of stairs. I lost the only girl I will ever love. She was only 54 and in perfect health.” I stared at his words as my life was completely changed in less than one minute. I cried as I read the rest of John’s note: “She was an organ donor and I am told that because of her good health she can help as many as 50 people. It has been nice talking to you about the love of my life.”

I could hear Bob in his study. He was still in a bad mood. I asked him to come in and read John’s e-mail.

As my husband was reading the letter, his mood began to change.

After recalling the hard but loving days with my husband, I responded to the letter.