Mother’s Day was coming. Anna really wanted to get her mom something special. In the first grade, Anna made a card for her mom. In the second grade, she wrote her a poem. But now she was in the third grade. Anna thought her mom would want a real gift from a store.

Anna went to a store near her house. That was where she could get her mom’s gift. She saw a beautiful hat, but it was 15 dollars. She wanted to buy a scarf for her mom, but the scarf was even more expensive — 18 dollars! Anna looked around the store but nothing was available (可得到的) for her. She bought nothing because nothing that she wanted was less than 12 dollars.

Anna walked home sadly. She got an idea. She took out some paper and a pencil, and made some cards. On each card, she wrote a thing that she would do for her mom. On one card she wrote, “I will help you make dinner.” On another one she wrote, “I will clean the house and do laundry (洗衣服).” She wrote eight more and put the cards under her bed. She didn’t want her mom to see them before the special day.

On Mother’s Day, Anna gave her mom the cards. Her mom thought the gift was great. In fact, she thought it was the best gift ever!

I grew up in the 1950s with very practical parents. My mother washed aluminum foil (铝箔纸) after she cooked in it, and then she reused it.She was the earliest recycle (回收利用) queen before people had a name for it.

My father was no different.He preferred getting old shoes fixed to buying new ones.Their marriage was good and their dreams were focused (集中).Their best friends lived just a wave away.Though my parents have passed away,I can see them now-Dad in trousers,a T-shirt and a hat and Mom in a house dress,lawnmower (割草机) in one hand and dishtowel in the other.

It was the time to fix things-a curtain rod (挂帘杆) the kitchen radio, the screen door, the oven door, and so on. They fixed all things we had.It was a way of life,and sometimes it made me crazy.All that re-fixing and renewing made me want to scream.I wanted just once to be wasteful.Waste meant being rich.Throwing things away meant you knew there’d always be more.I often thought like that.

But then my mother died,and on that clear summer night,in the warmth of the hospital room,I learnt that sometimes there isn’t any more.Sometimes,what we care about most gets all used up and goes away and it will never return. So, while we have it, it is the best that we love it,care for it,fix it when it’s broken and cure it when it’s sick.

This is true for marriage,old cars,children with bad report cards,dogs with bad hips and aging parents and grandparents.We keep them because they are worth it and because we are worth it.

I left home to support my sister in her efforts to present a music festival. She lives on the other side of the world, and I went to visit her, not wanting to leave and feeling like I was leaving home against my will. However, I wanted to show her my support because she is my only sister.

So I boarded the plane in mid-August, and hated the long flight. I arrived, tired and hungry. I left my husband two years ago, alone, in our old New Orleans house.

I was all set and ready to perform for my sister for the music festival on Sunday morning when I received a call from Chicago. The hurricane was predicted to hit our city, and many people had already evacuated, but my husband chose to stay behind. He could not get a call to me on the other side of the world, but he could call his cousin in Chicago. He gave his cousin a message for me, that he would be just fine, and not to worry.

As the days went on, I finally took the stage in front of hundreds of Europeans, and I realized. thanks to CNN that New Orleans was under water.

I performed, hoping that my husband would survive. And I performed perfectly. The audience stood and applauded. I left the stage and went straight to the TV. I saw the street sign near my home, on Humanity Street, but nothing below it, except water.

In the days that followed, I found out that my house, my car, my clothes, my furniture, everything that I’d left behind was gone. but not my husband. He survived by riding on the rear bumper (后保险杠) of a VW bus,, holding on to the overhead luggage rack, in the pouring rain, down the highway from New Orleans, halfway to Baton Rouge. The rest of the journey was a long walk, but he survived.

By the first week of September, I flew back to the Baton Rouge airport, and hugged my husband. Since then, our relationship has grown deeper; we have completely rebuilt our house, bought a new car, bought new furniture and new clothes and joined an inspirational, spirit-filled community.