When I was a boy, I had the craziest bus ride to school everyday. First I had to get up early, wolf down my breakfast, and walk across the shaky and swinging wooden bridge that crossed the river between our house and the main road. Then I stood and waited for the bus to arrive. When it got there I climbed in. I was always one of the first ones on the bus. Then even though the bus was only 4 miles from school, I started a ride that would last more than 45 minutes.

First, the bus went in the opposite direction for 6 miles, parked and waited for another bus to transfer kids onto it. Then it started back, but instead of going straight to my school, it started up a long and winding mountain road pausing at every house to pick up more kids. The road swirled around the mountain and back down with the bus getting fuller, louder, and noisier with each stop. Finally, it arrived at the high school to drop off the older kids before heading on to my grade school. But even then it didn’t go straight there but instead headed down another rocky dirt road that was full of potholes to pick up even more children. I usually got to the school stressed, tired, and just before the first class bell rang.

Thankfully, the ride home was different. During it the last kids picked up became the first kids dropped off. But I was different. Since my house was along the way, I got dropped off after just 10 minutes or so. I remember I would literally run across that shaky old bridge because I was so happy to be home again.

Looking back now I can see my whole life here has been one crazy long bus ride.

Do your best to enjoy the ride this life gives you.

In fifth grade, my family moved across town. I hated being the new kid at school.

I was tall for my age and already wore a size nine shoe—how awkward! My ponytails (马尾辫) and short bangs (刘海) seems quite different from others. I wanted to fit in, but in vain.

Theresa was thin but strong, with blond bangs and tightly pulled-back hair. For a reason unknown to me, she decided that I was worthy of her attention, and every day she walked up to me and kicked me in the back of the legs. Theresa was smart and quick. No teacher ever saw her, and within a week, my legs were bruised (淤青) black and blue.

One day on the playground, as Theresa was about to close in on me again, I escaped away. I glanced over one shoulder and, with relief, didn’t see her and thought she had given up. I stopped abruptly and turned around, unaware that Theresa had been running full-speed toward me. She didn’t expect my sudden stop and crashed into me and fell to the ground. A group of kids standing nearby laughed. Angry, she got up and began to kick me. I couldn’t stand any more. So I made a fist and swung my arm wildly. I caught Theresa in the nose, and she was bleeding. I didn’t know which of us was more surprised. Then we made a big fight. Consequently, we were taken to the principal’s office. He said we should be punished and then filled a form, I stared at his desk and realized that I could read the form upside down. It reads, “Labor punishment for one week.”

Theresa leaned toward me and whispered, “I guess we should get a two-week labor punishment.” I shook my head and said, “No, one week. I can read the form upside down.” Both of us were surprised that we should talk with each other.

Since my childhood my grandmother had noticed how shy I was about letting people do things for me. She was always pointing out to me, “Linda, it’s a blessing to do a good deed for someone else, but sometimes it’s a blessing to let another person do something for you.” I never really understood what she meant until recently.

It was three months ago, and I’d just moved into an apartment for college in Brooklyn, New York. Several of my friends had offered to help me settle in after the moving men left, but I’d said I could manage. Letting them help did not ft my image of myself as a capable and independent woman of 21.

As December arrived, getting to school became more difficult. One day, snowflakes had been falling past my window for several hours when it came time to leave for class. I put on two sweaters, a coat, a wool hat and boots, making for the bus stop near apartment. In this December storm it was a hard journey. As I tied around my neck the blue scarf that Grandma had knitted (编织) for me, I could almost hear her voice: “Why don’t you see if you can find a lift?” A thousand reasons came into my mind: I don’t know my neighbors; I feel funny asking for favors. Pride would not let me ask even though I came across three neighbors at the door of the apartment building. One of them was the woman living upstairs, and in her hand there was an obvious car key.

Result? An hour of waiting in the bitter cold before the bus finally arrived, followed by another half-hour journey. When I slid into the classroom, the class was almost over. If only I had taken the chance and asked for help! It would have been a 10-minute ride by car. Grandma would be shaking her head at my stubbornness (固执).

On the day of my final exam, I again walked to the bus stop through heavy snow.

As I pushed open the door of my apartment building, I found myself face to face with the woman form upstairs