It was a cold, snowy evening. Tommy was running as fast as he could, focused on nothing but his destination —the shop on the street corner. Two weeks ago he saw figurines (小塑像) of Marvel superheroes on the shelves and felt he had to have one. He has been walking the neighbor’s dog ever since then to earn money to fulfil his little dream. He was so excited and barely noticing the world around him. Maybe that’s why he tripped over the legs of a homeless woman, who was sitting on the pavement, her back against the wall. He said “sorry” and moved on to his destination.

Once he entered the shop, he went straight to the shelves with figurines. Hulk, Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, and many more — all of his admired heroes. With his heart pounding like crazy he reached for Spiderman.

“You like these, true believer?”

Tommy turned around. An old man was standing behind him with a wide smile on his face.

“Y-yes,… Yes, they’re awesome! ”answered Tommy. “They’re strong and fast and help other people a lot ...” the boy looked at figurines in admiration. “I wish I could be a superhero too.”

“Then become one!” said the old man.

“How?” Tommy asked in surprise “I don’t have any superpowers.”

“And why would you need them?” the old man smiled. Seeing the confusion on the boy’s face, he put his hands on Tommy’s arms. “Did you know that shopkeeper lady over there has a disabled husband? She has been working hard and taking care of him for years. I have never heard a word of complaint from her. And this person...”he pointed at a redhead man, who just entered the shop. “He’s a firefighter; he’s saved countless lives. He never gives up, no matter how dangerous the situation seems to be.”

The old man looked Tommy in the eyes and smiled. “You don’t need a superpower to be a hero for someone else. The path of a superhero starts not in the mind, not in the muscles, but in the heart.”

Tommy listened intently, his eyes wide with wonder and realization.

Tommy stepped back out into the snowy evening and approached the homeless woman.

Thirty years ago, I was a sixteen-year-old boy, tall and thin. It was the end of summer and the cool winds of fall were in the air. In front of a house, there was a truckload of wood, which my father, my brother and I had unloaded the day before.

My father and my brother were out to do farm work, so I needed to move these pieces of wood around the house again and again to where we were piling the chooped wood. And then I would cover it with oilcloth to keep it from getting wet. In those days, we used to use these wood fires to cook. We tried our best to collect firewood because we still needed some to get through the whole winter.

I worked fast at first, but soon I realized that I needed to go slower if I didn’t want to make myself too tired. Then I spent much time piling the wood and tying it together with a rope in case of falling down. To start with, I thought the work was boring. But then it became a game for me. Seeing that I could pile the wood so neatly, I smiled during the hard work.

After a while, the wood was all piled up, and my skinny arms felt a little sore. However, I didn’t stop working. I still needed to fetch some water with containers from the spring near our home. Our well water was so full of iron that it tasted terrible, so all cooking and drinking water had to come from the spring. The five-gallon containers felt like they weighed a ton, but I picked one at a time and carried them all up the hill to my house.

As I carried the last container back home, I saw my mother smiling at me at the door with a glass of tea in her hand. She said to me, “Here you are, baby. Just take a break.” We sat down with our dogs at our feet, watching the leaves blowing in the wind. Relaxing in the moment of peace and harmony, I figured out a good way to get water easier.

I decided to make a pipe to convey water.

My neighbors came to my house to get water at dusk.

After Sri Pisharody’s father died, her mother moved to the U. S. to be near her family. But a few things needed to be finalized back home. So Pisharody, her young daughter, and her mother flew to India together. During the long flight, Pisharody laid out some ground rules for her daughter.

“In India, it’s crowded. You have to stick with me and never trust the police officers or the auto rickshaw (黄包车)drivers because everybody wants a bribe (贿 赂)and they’ll try to cheat you,“ Pisharody recalled telling her daughter.

Pisharody had packed all of their passports, documents and other valuable items in a small briefcase. Upon landing, they hailed a rickshaw to the train station. When the driver dropped them off, Pisharody paid him, and then she turned around to make sure her daughter and mother were close by.

“Before I knew it, the auto rickshaw driver drove away with our briefcase that had my passport, our documents, our cash, everything in it,” Pisharody said. ”My heart sank. I started trembling. I didn’t know what to do. ” Her mother, who was 70 at the time, quickly sprang into action and headed to the police station, leaving Pisharody and her daughter at the train station.

While standing on the front steps, a group of auto rickshaw drivers approached them and asked what was wrong.

When she looked in the rickshaw, the briefcase was exactly where she had left it.