Molly was a single mother of two. She was new here so she didn’t interact much with her neighbors. However, she’d heard a lot of rumors (谣言) about her 82-year-old neighbor, Mr. Palmer. Some neighbors said he was spiritually sick. However, when she first saw Mr. Palmer, she did feel he was strange with his lonely lifestyle.

One day, Molly ran into Mr. Palmer. He was standing by a signal light and glancing around even after the light went green. Molly realized he needed help to cross the street, so she approached him. “Mr. Palmer. I’m Molly. I’ve only lately moved here. Can I help you?” she asked gently. The old man smiled at her. “Oh, Molly! Yes! Would you mind helping me cross the street?” “Of course not, Mr. Palmer,” she smiled. As they reached the other end of the street, Mr. Palmer thanked her over and over again. After that, Molly realized he wasn’t a strange man but just a lonely soul misjudged by everyone.

Days later, Molly got a new job and was just on a trial period, so she was too busy to babysit her kids, Ben aged 6, who had got epilepsy (癫痫) and Adam aged 4, when she was sometimes on the night shift.

One day, when she was returning home, she noticed Mr. Palmer sitting on a resting chair on his doorway. She stopped by and greeted him. During the chat, Mr. Palmer said he suffered from insomnia (失眠症), and only slept late in the morning for 5 to 6 hours at a time. Molly figured she could ask Mr. Palmer for help to babysit her kids while she was on her night shifts. When she asked him about it, he was happy to help.

When Mr. Palmer arrived at Molly’s house to babysit the kids, they got along well with him. Molly was relieved to see her children happy around Mr. Palmer each time and thought her kids were in safe hands while she left for work.

However, one day, when Molly got home from work early in the morning, her children and Mr. Palmer were nowhere to be seen.

The call was from an unknown number, and she was informed that her son Ben was in hospital.

Twenty years ago,I drove a taxi for a living.One night I went to pick up a passenger at 2:30 am.When I arrived to collect,I found the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

I walked to the door and knocked,“Just a minute,” answered a weak,elderly voice.

After a long time,the door opened.A small woman in her eighties stood before me.By her side was a small suitcase.

I took the suitcase to the car,and then returned to help the woman.She took my arm and we walked slowly towards the car.

She kept thanking me for my kindness.“It’s nothing,” I told her.“I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“Oh,you’re such a good man,” she said.When we got into the taxi,she gave me an address,and then asked,“Could you drive through downtown?”

“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly.

“Oh,I’m in no hurry,” she said.“I’m on my way to a hospice(临终安养院).I don’t have any family left.The doctor says I don’t have very long.”

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter (计价器).For the next two hours,we drove through the city.She showed me the building where she had once worked,the neighbourhood where she had lived,and the furniture shop that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow down in front of a particular building and would sit staring into the darkness,saying nothing.

At dawn,she suddenly said,“I’m tired.Let’s go now.” We drove in silence to the address she had given.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You have to make a living,” she answered.“Oh,there are other passengers,” I answered.She said thanks to me,but she looked so sad.

Almost without thinking,I bent and gave her a hug.

The next day,I was on my way to visit her.

My two-year-old daughter and I often get smiles from strangers as we walk through our town with Clara riding in her backpack, singing and swinging her feet.

I felt extra grateful for my sunny little girl on one walk at the end of April, 2006. Just three days before she woke up from her nap (小睡) with a fever. We spent a tough evening in the emergency room. Any parent or child is frightened by such an experience. So it was a great feeling that Clara was so happy that day.

We were heading home from a local grocery store, which wisely gives out free balloons to children. Clara always looks forward to getting a balloon there. She did an especially nice job — waiting patiently in the long queue at the store. Luckily, her patience was rewarded with a pink balloon. Pink means a lot to her, especially these days, since the medicine she is taking for the high fever is bubble-gum pink.

Clara was so happy that she started singing “Mister Golden Sun” to her balloon. But when we walked under a tree, POP! There went the balloon. Clara immediately burst into tears. “My pink balloon popped!” She has had many balloons before, but is always very careful with them. This was the first time that she had had such an upsetting experience. Heart-broken, she stared at her poor short-life luck, out of control.

A college-aged young man, about 21, with light brown hair, who was walking behind us noticed Clara’s tears. He was clearly preparing for an important date, as he was carrying a bouquet (束) of a dozen pink roses. He quickened his pace and asked Clara what had happened. Unfortunately, Clara was too shy and upset to answer, but I briefly described the situation, deeply touched that a young guy, probably hurrying home to get ready for a date, would stop to comfort a little child.

Clara was still crying, unable to say a single word.