Last April, Taylor got an unusual package in the mail. The postman carried the box to the door and handed it to Taylor directly. The box was peeping!

“What have you got there?” asked the postman.

“These are my chicks,” said Taylor.

The box was full of six small, fluffy chicks. They were each just one day old. When Taylor opened the box, the peeping got louder. Carefully, Taylor held one yellow chick in his hand. The chick was quiet and then closed its eyes to sleep. Taylor placed it gently under the heat light so it would stay warm. Taylor did this for each chick, and soon they were all sleeping together in their special box.

Taylor kept the chicks in his bedroom with the heat lamp running all day and all night. He would watch the chicks for hours when his homework was finished. Soon the chicks learned to peck at each other and to jump up and down. They also began to grow feathers, first on their wings and then on their tails. When all of their fluff was gone and their feathers in place, it was time to move the chicks to the hen house outside.

The hen house had three doors. There was a small door at the top of a slide that was just for the chickens. There was a big door in the back that was for people. Taylor used this door when he cleaned the hen house or filled the chickens’ food and water dishes. There was also a small door on the side of the hen house that led to the nesting boxes. These were small boxes that the chickens could sit in to lay their eggs. The special door would make it easy for Taylor to pick up the eggs without disturbing the hens.

Taylor checked the nesting boxes every day. Many times he saw the chickens sitting in the boxes, but there were no eggs. It would be many months before the chickens were old enough to lay eggs. Taylor was getting impatient. But his mother always taught him the importance of being patient, so he decided to wait.

One day when he opened the door to the nesting boxes, Taylor saw one of the hens inside.

But holding it for a while, Taylor found that it wasn’t a green ball!

It was a long weekend in May 2018 and my partner, Gabe Rosescu, and I were taking a road trip from my home to visit friends in Nelson. We are both adventurous, and we couldn’t wait to go hiking and exploring. It was our first trip together after six months of dating.

At around 5.30 pm, we were driving on a steep (陡峭) mountain road. I was texting messages to my family and enjoying the view. We weren’t aware there had recently been flooding in the area. When I looked up from my phone, I saw a wave of mud (泥) and an huge tree quickly moving down the mountain, right in front of our car. Gabe tried to brake, but it was too late.

I looked at him and we both said, “Oh, shoot!” .The mudslide sent our car suddenly falling nearly 300 meters down a rocky cliff (悬崖) .It landed on its side among some trees.

I don’t know how long we were unconscious, but I woke up by the sound of Ga bemoaning (呻吟) .He was bending over the steering wheel and there was blood everywhere. Outside my passenger window there was a steep drop. I had broken my breast bones and my right ankle was broken. It was so painful that I couldn’t move my right foot at all. Gabe had broken his nose and cheek bones. Parts of his head were crushed (挤压) and his eyes were damaged. With the side doors and my window crushed shut, the only way out was through the driver’s side window.

We both managed to get out of the car. With no phone signal, all we could do was to scream for help. We were shocked when, after just a few minutes, we heard someone callback.

Four climbers had found us and were approaching to rescue us.

After weeks of treatment in hospital, we both recovered.

I have an older brother who suffers from cerebral palsy (脑瘫). For as long as I can remember, his struggles with basic movements and speech caused me a deep sense of embarrassment, I was afraid of the stares and the whispered questions from others, so I kept my distance, thinking it would protect me from their judgment. This avoidance became a habit, a way to protect myself from the discomfort I felt over something I didn’t fully understand. Eventually, it became a barrier I built not around my heart, but around my life.

Even when I kept my distance, my brother would often offer me warm smiles, providing comfort and help during my difficult moments. There were times when I directed my frustrations towards him, perhaps because he was an easy target or because I hated his existence. His reactions, however, often took the form of silent understanding. He wouldn’t demand explanations for my behavior. Instead, he might reach out with a gentle gesture -- a touch, a smile, or simply his presence-reminding me that, despite my unnecessary outbursts, I was not alone.

The more he cared about me, the more I hated him. I believed he brought me shame, disgrace, and embarrassment. How I wished to stay away from him! But I had to choose a university in our city in order to see my ill mother when convenient. My brother, however, would prepare meals and have them delivered to my school, each time attaching a note filled with concern, asking why I hadn't come home, if I was unwell, or if something was wrong. After my graduation and the loss of my mother, I decided to distance myself from my city and, more significantly, from my brother, to seek a fresh start in a different city.