She was six years old when I met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. “Hello,” she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. I was depressed: my life seemed completely out of balance.

“What’s your name?” She wouldn't give up. “Ruth,” I answered. “Mine’s Wendy....I’m six.” She giggled, “Nice to meet you, Miss Ruth. Do you want to play? Maybe we can build something together. You’ll be happy!” She looked at me eagerly, waiting for my answer.

I just couldn’t refuse this lovely creature. I asked her: “Why don’t you go to school?” “I don’t go to school. Mommy says we’re on vacation.” She chattered little girl talk as we built the sandcastle. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed. She pointed toward a row of summer cottages and told me she lives there.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy when Wendy caught up with me, “I’d rather be alone today.” She seems unusually pale and out of breath. “Why?” she asked. I turned to her and shouted, “Because my mother died!” “Oh,” she said quietly, “then this is a bad day.” “Yes, go away!” “Did it hurt when she died?” “Of course!” I shouted. She didn’t say anything more, tears rolling down her face.

A month or so after that, when I went to the beach, she wasn’t there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage and knocked at the door.

A drawn-looking(憔悴的) young woman with red and swollen eyes opened the door.

“She left something for you,” her mum’s voice trembled and handed me an envelop.

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read beneath an old willow tree. Not satisfied with life, I was upset. At this time, a young boy approached me. He stood right before me with this head tilting (倾斜)down, saying with great excitement, “Look what I found!”

In his hand was a flower with its petals (花瓣)all worn. What a pitiful sight it was! That’s because there was not enough rain or light. Wanting him to take his dead flower away and go off to play, I forced a small smile and then turned away. But instead of leaving, he sat next to my side and placed the flower to his nose and declared with certainty. He said, “ It surely smells pretty and it’s beautiful, too. That’s why I picked it and it’s for you.”

The flower before me was dying or dead. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower and replied, “Just what I need.” But instead of placing the flower in my hand, he held it in midair without reason. It was then that I noticed for the first time the boy was blind.

I heard my voice shake and my eyes were full of tears as I thanked him for picking the very best one. He smiled, and then walked off to play, unaware of the effect he had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see a self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. Meanwhile, I felt confused about the reason why he tried to make me happy by showing me the flower? Perhaps from his heart, he enjoyed the world with true sight.

Para. 1 Through the kindness of the blind child, I learned something new.

Para.2 Then I stood up and walked to the boy.