“Going to Nationals!” We were all screaming and jumping. Kate, Jenny, Wendy and I embraced each other, bouncing. “Good job, Tara.” Said Kate as she put an arm around me. I am the youngest on the relay race team, but I'm fast. When I run, I leave the skin of my shyness behind, and I feel like a horseman on the Mongolian grassland, free, without boundaries.

Everybody ran to their parents in the bleachers ( 露天看台). My Mom didn’t make it. Again. I grabbed my phone and called her. It took a while for her to answer. “Yes, hi dear.” “Mom, we won states, and we are going to nationals.” I burst out in one breath. “Great! Let’s talk later; I’ll pick you up from school.” I wanted to say: “Is that it? Why aren’t you proud of me? All other parents are here, why aren’t you?” but all I did was“OK, see you soon.”Does she see me? Do I matter?

It was late after 9 PM. All the parents picked up their children, but my Mom wasn’t here yet. Coach Johnson waited with me. We just stood. A speeding car turned the corner; it was my Mom’s Toyota. Coach patted me on the back and left.

“I am so sorry I am late.Time just flew.” Said Mom. I wanted to cry in disappointment and tell her that I hate to be always last to be picked up and never have her come to my sporting contests, school plays, or anything else; ask her why she won’t make time for me. But when I looked at her and saw her tired eyes and clenched jaw (咬紧下巴), I just said: “That's OK, Mom, I understand.” Her jaw had stayed clenched since we came to this country as Mom would say: “with two pieces of luggage, a three-year-old (me), and $700.”

Nationals finally came and my Mom came for the first time ever.

I had let everybody down and I ran out to hide myself

Amy loved drawing, but her grandmother Bonnie was opposed to it, who thought those strange things Amy drew were not going to help her in the future. One day, when they were eating dinner at the table, the doorbell rang.

Amy answered the door to see a well-dressed man standing at the door. “Oh my God, I know you! Mr Henderson?” Amy said gladly. “You are my favorite cartoonist (漫画家)! Wow! Hello, sir!” Then she led Mr Henderson into her house.

Mr Henderson was a famous New York-based cartoonist. He worked for an art magazine.

“I received a letter with some samples (样本) of your artwork, Amy. And I must say I was so impressed by your talent. In fact, I wrote you letters, but In ever got a reply,” Mr Henderson said to Amy. “If I hadn’t visited you today, you might have missed out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“You sent me letters?” Amy wondered aloud. Amy noticed Bonnie sat uneasily in her seat, and she realized why the letters had never reached her. Her grandmother kept them hidden from her. Mr Henderson continued, “We are accepting applications for our arts training program this summer. I would personally teach the students the art of cartoons and everything related. For that, you need to pass a drawing test. If everything goes well, you will be able to learn from me later and pursue your dream for art.”

Amy was excited about the news, but Bonnie refused and said angrily, “You are wasting our time, sir. Please leave.”

“But ma’am, this can really shape your granddaughter’s career,” Mr Henderson sad. “And if you’re concerned about the money, please don’t be. The committee will cover all the costs. A gifted childlike Amy can greatly benefit from the program.” Then Mr Henderson pulled out a file from his document case and gave it to Amy. “It’s a test assignment I know your grandmother is against it and things are tough, but I hope you’ll be able to do it,” he added as he left the house.

Amy couldn’t contain her excitement after Mr Henderson’s visit.

Amy’s strong love for drawing deeply touched Bonnie.

Role Change

It was a Friday night, and I was just picked up from school by my uncle. He told me that my mother had been in a terrible car crash and had been taken to a nearby hospital.When we got to the hospital, my grandmother pulled me aside and said whatever I did, I mustn’t cry in front of my mother.

My mother’s room was right next to the nurses' station. As I turned into the room, I saw her lying on her side, with her tiny back to me and a pillow between her bandaged legs. She struggled to turn around but couldn’t. I slowly inched to the other side of the bed and said “hi” in a calm voice, containing my urge to cry out.

Gently holding my mother’s cold swollen hands, I tried to keep calm. She kept looking straight into my eyes as if trying to tell me how much pain she was in. I turned my face away from her, trying to hide the tears that were rolling down my face. Eventually I had to leave her for a moment because I couldn’t take it anymore. That was when it struck me that I really might lose my mother. Then I went home and cried myself to sleep.

From that night on, my life completely changed. Up to that point, I'd had the luxury of just being a kid, having to deal with my “messy” teenage life and enjoying my mother’s care. My concept of crisis was now forever changed. As my mother struggled first to stay alive and then to relearn to walk, my sense of priorities in life changed completely. My mother needed me. The trials and hardships of my daily life at school, which had seemed so important before, now appeared insignificant. My mother and I had faced death together, and life took on new meaning for both of us.

I visited my mother in the hospital as often as I could for the next two months. Finally, a sort of hospital suite (房间) was set up in our family room, and to my relief and joy, she was allowed to come home.

Her returning home was a blessing, but it meant some unfamiliar duties for me.

My mother’s dependence on me changed our relationship.