When I was 13, I climbed my first mountain — a fairly gentle 3, 900-foot peak near where I live in Surrey, British Columbia. I loved the challenge of conquering something bigger than myself. Soon I’d climbed nearly 100 peaks.

I often go climbing with my friend Mel Olsen. Two years ago, on December 30, when I was 16, she and I drove to Oregon to conquer 11, 240-foot Mount Hood.

It's safer to start winter climbs at night when there's less risk of the sun melting the snowpack. That day, we started at 3 a. m. The temperature was about 14 degrees, and we wore clothes we could easily remove. Along the way, we met two other climbers, and the four of us continued on together.

After about five hours, we reached Devil's Kitchen, a plateau at about 10, 000 feet, just before the final push to the top. By this point, the wind conditions were horrible. My exposed skin felt as though it were burning. The other climbers decided to turn back, but Mel and I went ahead. We had ice axes (斧), helmets, and crampons (钉鞋). We were prepared for the climb.

The trail we followed grew narrower and steeper. At around 9 a. m., we reached a patch of ice called an ice step. It was about three or four feet tall and sloped at a 75-degree angle. I volunteered to go first. I placed my left foot on the ice step.

I gained a sense of the ice when I stuck my ax and crampons into it, and it felt good. Confident that I was safe, I put my full weight on it. Suddenly, I heard a crack, and a whole block of ice broke off the step, right under my foot.

In an instant, I fell backward.

As Mel made her way down, I yelled for help.

My mom impressed a motto upon me when I was growing up: never hold a grudge (怨恨). Unlike most teenagers who go through a period of rebellion (叛逆), I was obedient (顺从) and determined to never hold onto anger or a grudge.

Mom and I never had a screaming match, and even though she had been an overprotective mother, I had plenty of reasons to be upset with her.

One Friday, I brought home a senior ring booklet within my English homework. My heart was set on a small ring with a royal blue stone. It was very popular among my class. “Mom, I know money is tight, but I really want it.”

My mother looked at the ring of my dreams circled with a red marker. It cost 35 dollars. She cut me off. “There is no extra money for a class ring.”

I offered to earn the money by ironing or doing odd jobs for neighbors.

“Don’t you dare to approach neighbors! You’ll put the ring aside, anyway. You don’t need a class ring.”

“But, Mom, I want one. I’ll be the only student in my senior class without one. Please?”

My begging fell on deaf ears. She turned away and went to her bedroom; her mind was made up. Mine was filled with anger, but I tried my best to control it because of the motto: never hold a grudge. I lay on my bed, trying to read a book, but I couldn’t see the words through my tears.

The weekend before the money was due, I attempted one more time to persuade her. I waved my hand and pretended I was showing off my pretty senior ring.

“There is no extra money! I said ‘no’!” she told me.

I felt very angry and almost had a big quarrel with her. Grudges crowded in on me unconsciously.

One night, my dad arrived home late as usual and with him came the turning point.

As my mom said, it was indeed a waste of money.

One day, when I just attended high school. I saw a kid from my class walking home from school, whose name was Steve. It seemed he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself: “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a bookworm (书呆子).”

As I was walking, I saw a number of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and throwing him flat in the dirt. His glasses went flying and landed in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I noticed this terrible sadness in his eyes. So, I went up to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw tears in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, he said, “Thanks!” There appeared a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. We talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out a pretty cool kid. The more I got to know Steve, the more I liked him.

During next four years, Steve and I became the best friends. When we were seniors, he had the highest marks in the class and got chosen to give a speech at the graduation ceremony. I made fun of him all the time about being a bookworm. He had to prepare a lot, and I was so glad it wasn't I who had to get up there and speak.

On the graduation day, I saw Steve. I said, “Hey, pal, you'll be great!” He just looked at me with one of those looks, the really grateful one, and said “Thanks!”, smiling.

When he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those rough years. Your parents, your teachers, your brothers or sisters, maybe a coach. . . but mostly, your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best present you can give him or her. I am going to tell you a story.”

I just looked at my best friend with disbelief as he talked about the first day we met.

I smiled back in tears.