After twenty years of marriage, Melissas lost her husband, who was a brave soldier and passed away while defending his country.

They had a son, Mathew, who was 18 years old and very considerate. In his spare time, instead of paying, he worked at a local shop so he could help his mother reduce the financial burden.

When Mathew got his first pay cheque from the part-time job, he bought Melissa a beautiful dress and flowers. During the next few months, he often bought something to make his mother smile because he knew she still hadn’t recovered from the death of her lover.

As Christmas neared, Matthew’s friends began planning what to do during the holiday. Soon, they decided to go to a party, but Matthew refused to go with them. He didn’t want Melissa to feel lonely at home on Christmas. For him and Melissa, the day was special and significant, not only because it was their traditional holiday, but also because it was Melissa’s birthday.

“I’ll stay at home with my mother,” he told his friends, “We rarely get to spend time together because she’s mostly on her flights when I’m home.” But later that day, Matthew learned his mother wouldn’t be home on Christmas. “Mom? Why are you working on the big day?” he asked. The airline company Melissa worked for was quite short of attendants recently because many were sick. Besides, there was sharp increase in flights due to the holiday. So Melissa decided to continue working on Christmas to support her company and help serve passengers.

Melissa said, “I’m sorry, Matthew. You’ll have to spend the holiday alone.” She felt sorry that she could not enjoy the holiday with Matthew. Matthew was also upset. But before going to bed that night, Mathew got an idea to stay with his mother on Christmas. He would surprise her on the plane where she worked.

“I can still spend Christmas with her,” he thought. And he turned on his computer to check if the light his mother would be on still had seat left. “Yes! It still has seats!” he yelled.

Immediately, he booked himself a ticket for Christmas.

Later, while passing by Matthew’s seat, Melissa yelled, “Matthew? Is that you?”

It all began with a perfect gift. A couple of months before I started high school, my parents gave me the greatest gift any teenage boy could ask for: a smartphone. I lived on that phone all summer with my face buried in its screen. I held multi-day marathon messages with every friend to keep in contact with them. I ignored my family and my surroundings. Being connected was more important than being present.

So, I felt extremely displeased when I learned about my father’s travel arrangements for our family vacation that year. “This year,” my dad said, “we’ll be doing something special. We’re going camping.”

His excitement was met with a disappointed sigh (叹气). But I wasn’t too annoyed. It wasn’t my dream vacation, but it was still a vacation. I remained uninfluenced throughout the packing, planning and, of course, the instructions that went in one ear and out the other. I fixed my mind on the screen in my hands so much that the first time I raised my eyes was when we drove across a bridge on the way to our campsite.

I stared out the window and saw a fast-moving river. The air blowing into the car was hot and smelled of trees. But none of that mattered to me. The reason why I had looked up was for something far more serious. More shocking. My phone no longer had service.

Then my dad revealed that he had chosen a destination where there was no phone signal, and my phone — my lifeline — would be useless until we returned home. I would be trapped in the forest for four days with no way to contact the outside world.

On the first day, I shouted. I bargained. I begged. However, nothing would add signal bars (信号条) to my phone service. I went to bed angry that night, thinking I would be bored to death the next day.

Without my phone, however, I found a totally different world the next morning.

The four days passed in a flash, full of fun activities.

I was born into a big family. As the fifth of seven children, I went to the same public school as my three older sisters and brother. Every year, my mother went to the same scene and had parent/child interviews with the same teachers. The only thing different was the child. And every child participated in an old school tradition — the annual plant sale held in early May, just in time for Mother’s Day.

Third grade was the first time that I was allowed to take part in the plant sale. I wanted to surprise my mother, but I didn’t have any money. I went to my oldest sister and shared the secret, and she gave me some money. When I arrived at the plant sale, I carefully made my selection and spent a long time inspecting each plant to ensure that I had indeed found the best geranium (天竺葵). Once I had taken it secretly home, with the help of my sister, I hid it in the attic (阁楼). I was very nervous for fear that my mother would find it before Mother’s Day, but my sister assured me that she wouldn’t, and indeed she did not.

When Mother’s Day arrived, I got up very early, went into the attic on tiptoe and carried the carefully-selected geranium to the kitchen, where my mother was preparing breakfast. “It’s for you!” I gave the flower to mum and hugged her tightly.

The year I was fifteen, my younger sister reached third grade. In early May she came to me full of wonder and secrecy and told me that there was going to be a plant sale at school, and she wanted to surprise our mother. As my older sister did for me, I gave her some money and off she went.

She arrived home full of nervous excitement.

My mother noticed me watching, and she gave me a soft, secret smile.