A Mother’s Heartfelt Note of Love

Everything seemed to have changed for me when I entered high school. I never saw a single person I knew from middle school. At home I was just as lonely. “My brothers and sister all fit in.” I thought, coming in the door after another bad day at school. “Why can’t I?”

Mom was there waiting for me. “Karole, your bedroom’s a disaster. Why can’t you keep it clean?” The last thing I needed was criticism from my mother. What had happened to the mother who used to snuggle (依偎) with me on the sofa, loving me with complete acceptance? Who thought everything I did was wonderful? I didn’t bother trying to explain my unhappiness. It was easier to hide in my bedroom, without saying a word, like I did every afternoon.

Clearing off some space, I sat down at my desk. Yet another thing I wasn’t good at anymore. My grades had slipped along with my confidence. I turned to a new page in my notebook and started working out the first problem. Almost immediately, I saw I’d made a mistake. “Wrong again!” I thought. “You can’t do anything right!” I tore the paper out of my notebook, balled it up in my fist and threw it at the wastepaper basket. The ball landed on the floor. I heard my mother’s voice in my head, “Why can’t you keep your room clean?”

By the time I finished my homework, the floor was littered with crumpled (弄皱的) paper. It gave me a kind of satisfaction to see the mess I’d made. Like it was proof of all my shortcomings. Every time I looked at those crumpled balls, I reminded myself what a failure I was. But my unhappiness stayed hidden away, just like those mistakes. With my face a mask of indifference, no one knew what I was really feeling. Who would want to listen?

One day, I came home to an empty house. It was a relief not to be met with Mom’s latest complaint. “Nothing I do is right in her eyes.” I thought. “Or anyone else’s, including mine.”

When I opened my bedroom door, I froze at the sight of a neat and orderly room.

I sat down at my desk, staring at those words.

I had a dream from primary school: to work in television. My parents owned a little grocery store, so we were definitely not fancy people. Thankfully, my dad had raised me to have a lot of confidence. He often said, “You can do anything you want to do.” My dad was particularly supportive. He was my steady rock — always there for me.

With his help and encouragement, I was admitted to the radio and television arts program at Ryerson in Toronto. I really loved the program and worked hard and I was named the most outstanding graduate. I felt like I was already living my dream. I began to think that maybe I could apply for an internship in CBC or CTV.

Luckily, Global Television had just started broadcasting in Canada that year. I thought to myself: I’m new and they're new, so if Fm going to get to know one person at Global, it might as well be the president. I was scared, but I knew deep down inside that this was what I wanted. When I called my dad and told him my plan, he said, “Good, Faye. That’s exactly what you should do.”

With my heart just about pounding out of my body, I called up the president of Global Television. Suddenly Mr. Slaight was on the phone. “I’ve heard that your studio facilities are amazing. I could come at eleven o’clock on Monday or eleven o’clock on Sunday for a tour. What would suit you better?” I caught him totally off guard. He stuttered a bit, and then picked a day. When I hung up, I was scared but excited.

I arrived at the studio on the appointed day. When Mr. Slaight took me around, he looked at me and said， “What do you want?” He sounded furious but curious. “All I want is a chance to audition. I just want you to know my face. That’s all I’m asking.”

I didn’t know whether I’d ever hear from him again, but two weeks later, his secretary called, “Mr. Slaight wants to know if you’d like to come and audition for a new school life show.” I immediately answered，“Sure!”

When I arrived at the station, I went direct into the audition and began my short performance.

Finally came the day of my first public appearance on live TV with my parents at home watching.

Meggie was a babysitter for Mrs. Quinn. The house was at the end of a road, and the yard was filled with so many trees that she couldn’t see any of the neighbors’ houses. She always felt slightly frightened when she was left alone with the babies.

One snowy evening, Meggie was watching an old movie on the sofa after the babies had fallen asleep. Around nine o’clock, she heard a car on the driveway. Then she heard a loud knock on the door.

“Who is it?” she asked after she looked through the hole on the door and saw a middle-aged man standing in the entryway. “Ben. Your brother.”

Assuming that the man had mistaken her for her employer, Mrs. Quinn, Meggie replied, “Mrs. Quinn can’t come to the door right now.”

“Ask if Ben can come in.”

Meggie’s mother had always warned her: Never open the door for a stranger while you’re babysitting.

“Go over to the window,” Meggie said.

The man stepped forward.

“The truth is that I’m babysitting,” Meggie said through the screen. Then remembering her mother’s second warning: Don’t advertise that you are alone. Meggie quickly added, “Mrs. Quinn will be home soon.”

“It’s awfully cold out here. Can I wait inside?” the man said, rubbing his hands together. “Please let me in. I promise I won’t bother you.”

“But Mrs. Quinn hadn’t said anything about your dropping by tonight.” Meggie explained. “How can I be sure that you are telling the truth?”

“That’s because she didn’t know I was coming. I was planning to surprise her on her birthday.”

Her birthday? But Meggie hadn’t seen any birthday cards lying around. Her heart raced. She remembered the emergency number Mrs. Quinn left her, so she said, “I’ll call her and see what she will say.”

The smile disappeared from the man’s face. “You’re going to leave me outside to freeze to death? Let me in now!” the man threatened. “Or you’ll be in big trouble!”