The Summer I Learned to Really See

It was a muggy(闷热)end-of-summer dog day in Missouri. I was preparing to go after the mail—about a mile's distance, through fields and forests, across a river, from our farmhouse, in which three generations of my family lived.

“Take the bucket with you,” my grandmother said, handing me the very familiar bucket.

“What for?” I asked, petulantly(使小性子). The berries had been picked, and it was too early for wild grapes, too late for roasting ears(穗).

“You'll find something to fill it with,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I didn't want to take the bucket. It would be a burden to me. Twice a day I'd carried a bucket for milking. With it I'd carried feed to the chickens, salt to the cows, sugar to the neighbors. I'd had enough with carrying with the bucket!

Nevertheless, I took the bucket. Halfway to the mailbox, I set it down beneath a pokeberry bush(胡桃树). I needn't carry it the whole way, I reasoned. There was no mail. When I got back to the bucket, I saw that a few ripe pokeberries had fallen into it. With childish ill humor, I picked off enough clusters(花串) to fill the bucket, even though I thought they were good for nothing.

“Aren't they just lovely!” Grandma exclaimed admiringly when I set them on the kitchen table. She squeezed out the juice of the berries and we used the lovely red ink to paint rings on our fingers and pen letters to distant cousins.

When I went to mail the letters the next day, Grandma again told me to take the bucket along. This time I carried the bucket a little farther than the previous day before setting it down. There was only a sale catalogue in the mail. When I got back to the bucket, I dropped it in. But I felt vaguely uncomfortable, remembering the pokeberries. I caught sight of a bunch of peppermint(薄荷) growing close to the path. Funny, I had passed it every day and never noticed it before. Peppermint just doesn't spring up overnight. I picked a bucketful, its fragrance seeming to cool the day. Grandma was pleased with the peppermint. She liked to chew it and make tea with it.

Every Sunday, the competition started. The three of us would set our alarm clocks to wake up earlier than anyone else. I had set my alarm clock to six in the morning, hoping that my brothers wouldn't start before me.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Groaning, I reached over to my nightstand and slapped the top of my alarm clock. “Too early on this cold winter day,” I murmured. I curled back into my warm blanket and fell asleep again.

My eyes blinked open to the whirring sound of the vacuum cleaner. “They chose their chores first!” I thought with despair. I jumped up from my bed and rushed to the bathroom, where I started the only chore that was left for me. I would definitely be shoveling (铲) the driveway while they built an igloo (冰屋) , I thought cheerlessly, rubbing and wiping madly at the toilet bowl.

When I finished cleaning the toilet and sink, my brothers came into the bathroom to watch me clean the bathtub as they mocked me about how I'd overslept and got stuck with the longest chore. “Whoever finishes last has to shovel the driveway, remember?” my older brother reminded me with a triumphant smile when we put on our big coats and snow pants to go outside.

The three of us stepped outside into the knee-deep snow and shielded our eyes from the brightness. My brothers wasted no time and dashed off to play in the yard, leaving me behind to tackle the frustrating task of shoveling the driveway. With a heavy sigh, I inched through the thick snow to the driveway, my boots sinking with each step. I grunted (嘟哝) with effort as my brothers yelled with joy. Sunday would never be my day, I sighed.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a shovel rubbing against the driveway concrete.

After we finished, we sat inside the igloo, laughing about our morning adventures.

That night, I quarreled with my mother, then stormed out of the house. While on the road, I remembered that I did not have any money in my pocket, I did not even take my cell phone with me to make a call home.

At the same time, I went through a noodle shop, and I suddenly felt very hungry. I wished for a bowl of noodles, but I had no money!

The seller saw me standing before the counter and asked, “Hey little girl, you want to eat a bowl?”

“But … but I do not carry money …” I shyly replied.

“Okay, I’ll treat you.” the seller said, “come in, I will cook you a bowl.”

A few minutes later the owner brought me a steaming bowl of noodles. After eating some pieces, I cried.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing. I am just touched by your kindness!” I said as I wiped my tears. “Even a stranger on the street gives me a bowl of noodles, and my mother, after a quarrel, chased me out of the house. She is cruel (残忍的)!!”

The seller sighed, “Girl, why did you think so? Think again. I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you felt that way. Your mother has been taking care of you since you were little, why were you not grateful and why did you hurt your mom?”

I was really surprised after hearing that.

Why did I not think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel grateful, and my mother has raised me since I was little and I have never felt so, not even a little.

Just at that moment, many memories came back into my mind.

When arriving home, I saw my mother sitting at the dinner table, worried and tired.