When he was around 5-6 years old, my brother Ted, who is four years younger to me, suddenly found his legs unable to move one night. What followed was one of the hardest times of my parents'life. Months passed with them meeting various doctors, visiting different hospitals, and knocking at the doorstep of every possible chance — all the time with Ted in their arms, since he wasn't able to walk on his own anymore.

There were doubts of permanent paralysis（瘫痪）— the very mention of which was enough to break us down. From finding it extremely painful to walk, to not being able to get up on his own, and to not being able to stand at all, Ted's problem was worsening day by day. Most surprisingly, all this while, he was as strong as, perhaps, only children can be in such difficult times.

During this period, it was not unusual for my mother to have sudden breakdowns. Once, she burst into tears while watching Ted playing joyfully. He wiped off her tears, and said, “Don't cry, mummy. See, I can stand and even run on my own!” Saying this, he tried to get up, stood on shaking legs for just about a few microseconds and fell down, only to be safely caught in the arms of my mom, who hugged him dearly and cried some more.

This was the most heart-breaking thing that I had ever experienced. But it was also a powerful one for the simple fact that it was my little brother who taught us what life was all about—HOPE.

Witnessing my brother's strong will and positive attitude inspired me as well. As a brother, I could not stand by doing nothing at all. Hope was burning in my heart when I had the idea to train my brother to walk again. I firmly believe Ted could stand up and walk as he used to. Whenever school was over, I would put Ted into a pushchair and tell my mom that we'd just go to the park.

In the park, I would put Ted one meter away from me, encouraging him to walk.

We agreed to keep this a secret from our parents until mom's birthday.

It was a Friday afternoon. In Brooklyn Junior Middle School, the bell indicating the end of the last class threw the whole classroom into chaos. All the boys and girls started packing their school bags, chattering with each other about their exciting plans for the long-anticipated weekend at the same time.

Miss Helen, the headteacher, stepped into the noisy classroom. She quieted the kids, assigned the homework and added: “The first teacher-parent meeting of this term will take place tomorrow morning. Please...”

Bill’s heart sank.

Bill was a 12-year-old boy in Grade 7. His father was a sailor. He had to work at sea most of the year and did not get home often. However, this didn’t make Bill an eccentric (性格古怪的) and withdrawn boy.

As a matter of fact, at school, Bill was a typical student favored by all the teachers in his class. He was never late for school, always active in class, always polite to the teachers and always friendly and helpful towards his classmates, not to mention his outstanding academic performance.

It was all because of his kind, considerate and devoted mum, a perfect mum in Bill’s eyes, except for one thing: She walked with a pronounced limp (跛行). Bill remembered when young, maybe about 3 or 4 years old, he once asked her mum about it, but his mum just smiled and told him she was born like this. Bill loved his mum very much but he seldom went out with his mum. He just hated it when others eyed, whispered or inquired about that, curiously, kindly or sympathetically.

And now, this would be the first time for his new classmates and teachers to meet his mother and he would be embarrassed by her appearance.

That evening, Bill called his father and complained about his absence and the upcoming meeting.

A gift of love

“Can I see my baby?” the happy new mother asked.

When the bundle (襁褓) was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look at his tiny face, she suddenly breathed deeply. The doctor turned quickly and looked out of the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears.

Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was spoiled. When her son rushed home from school one day and threw himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.

He cried out the tragedy, “A boy, a big boy…called me a freak (怪物).”

He grew up, handsome except for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a talent for literature and music.

“But you might look the same as other young people, ” his mother whispered to herself, feeling a kindness in her heart.

The boy's father had a talk with the family physician. “Could nothing be done？”

“I believe I could graft (移植)on a pair of outer ears, if they could be obtained,” the doctor decided. So the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for the young man.

Two years passed through. Then, “You're going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret,” said the father.

The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs.

Later he married and entered the diplomatic service.

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come.