Kale looked past the door crack and smiled at the rise and fall of his mother’s breathing. He looked at the hall clock once again. waiting for the second hand to finish its circle. Three. Two. One.

. . Mom! It’s eight o'clock. Christmas morning. Time for presents. “ Kate rushed onto the bed, and climbed on top of the sleeping woman. But after a long night shift, Mom was too tired. She told Kale to wait for another half hour.

Though he was young, he was aware of their situation. His mother worked most of the day in a restaurant and it usually left her tired. He nodded, kissed her forehead and left the room.

Like most seven-year-olds, he had a problem waiting patiently for anything. A few minutes later, a thought struck him and he smiled. He could go and check the present by himself. “We wish you a Merry Christmas.” Kale’s singing died when he turned the comer. He saw their small tree with nothing but space underneath it.

Frustrated as he was, he knew that Mom was doing all that she could to make ends meet. It was true that he had no present, but neither did Mom. Kale held his disappointment back inside and went into the kitchen to make her breakfast as the Christmas present. Half an hour later, with the food prepared. he knocked at the door. Kate put on his most handsome smile before entering and presented her with the sandwich he made. “Merry Christmas, Mom! This is my present for you.” Deeply moved by her son, she showered his face with grateful kisses.

We were in our late 20s with a child when my husband, Ralph, finally graduated from college.

“OK, now I deserve a piano,” I blurted out when he sat down for lunch just before the graduation ceremony. A look of surprise crossed his face.

“We could never afford a piano. After so many years of hard work, we got you through school. Now I deserve a piano,” I repeated.

Several months later, Ralph, with help, moved the upright piano we bought for $ 100 into our cottage’s tiny arched dining room. It smelled a little musty, but had great tone.

Ralph started graduate school, leaving no money for private piano lessons. The first thing that came to my mind was Santa Monica City College—maybe it offered piano lessons. Skimming the catalog, I danced around the room when I found a class at the same time the boys were at preschool.

Practicing, however, was not so easy. Four-year old redheaded Denny crawled out of bed in the evening on a regular basis. That was my time to practice. He’d pad out of the bedroom in his sleeper and climb up on the bench with me. Soon he began plinking (发出叮铃声) on the high keys. I tried to ignore him. He listened to the echoes of the keys and plinked some more. Doing all I could do to keep focused on my own practicing, I continued to ignore him.

This practice pattern became an evening routine. After a while, I didn’t even hear him anymore. Ralph studied. Denny plinked on the high keys, and I focused on my piece for the end-of-the-term recital (独奏会).

That evening came. However, Ralph said he was busy preparing for the midterms and couldn’t watch Denny.

Pacing back and forth, I shook my head trying to figure out what to do. Time was running out. I bundled up Denny—with his sleeper on—and drove off to the recital with him.

“We’ll sit in the front row, Denny,” I whispered. “You have to be very quiet and listen when I am playing.” He nodded, said “Uh-huh,” and we sat down.

Denny held my hand, but then my turn came.

A small body climbed onto the piano bench next to me.

In the town of Willowbrook, young Sarah was in a state of great excitement. Her school was putting on its annual play, and she had been offered a principal role. The school hall had been abuzz for weeks with rehearsals, prop (道具) preparations, and the students practicing their lines. Sarah had spent countless hours rehearsing, wanting to get every word and movement absolutely right.

However, underlying her anticipation was a growing sadness. Sarah’s dad, Mr Thompson, worked as an engineer in a big city, and his job often kept him away from home for a long time, which meant he frequently missed out on most of the special moments in Sarah’s life. This play seemed to be another addition to that growing list. He had a vital business meeting on the same day, and Sarah, although understanding, couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Her classmates talked excitedly about their families coming to watch, increasing her sense of loss.

It was bright and sunny on the day of the play. The school’s hall was noisy with students. Students in costumes rushed about, teachers gave last-minute instructions, and the air was thick with anticipation. Sarah peeped out from behind the curtains and saw the hall filling up with eager parents, siblings, and friends. Every seat was taken, except one — her dad’s.

The play started on time with Sarah and her classmates’ performance being the first. The actors delivered their lines with passion and the audience responded with laughter and applause at all the right moments. Sarah played her part with a mix of excitement and longing, wishing her dad could see her shine.

Halfway through, the host called for a surprise guest to enter. He described him as a “mysterious stranger” whose brief appearance would provide a turning point in the plot. As the lights dimmed slightly and suspenseful music played, a tall figure stepped onto the stage.

Sarah’s heart jumped faster.

When the final scene concluded and the curtains drew to a close, applause thundered through the hall.