I grew up in a small town where primary school was a ten-minute walk from my house. When the noon bell rang, I would race breathlessly home. My mother would be home to greet me with a smile.

Our lunch time when I was in the third grade will stay with me always. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had painstakingly practiced my lines with me. But no matter how easily I delivered them at home, as soon as I stepped onstage, every word disappeared from my head. Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained patiently that she needed a narrator and had written a narrator’s part to the play, and asked me to switch roles. Her words, kindly expressed, still hurt me, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day. But she sensed my unease, and instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard. It was a lovely spring day and the rose vine (藤) was turning green. Under the huge trees, we could see yellow dandelions (蒲公英) appearing unexpectedly through the grass in bunches, as if a painter had touched our landscape with small amounts of gold. I watched my mother casually bend down by one of the bushes. “I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds,” she said, pulling a blossom up by its roots. “From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden.” I immediately protested, “But I like dandelions. All flowers are beautiful—even dandelions.”

“Do you mean that every flower has its own beauty?” asked my mother thoughtfully.

After the play, I went home with the flower.

Jenny was a fifth grader. She was considered one of the most popular girls in her class. She was very pretty, but that was not why she was considered popular. She was popular because she was known to be among the brightest in her class. She could do the most cartwheels in a row, but mostly, she had the talent to dance.

In February, she entered the school’s dance competition and won the first place. Her whole class was there to support her. Since that day, she had been the class attraction. In December, the school was holding another dance competition, but there had been a change in the competition. The competition had to be done in pairs.

Jenny’s class was looking up to her with high expectations of her winning again this year. On the other hand, Jenny was unsure of this competition outcome. She wanted to enter the competition, but she had never danced with a partner before. She decided to ask some of the boys in her class to enter with her. They all said no to her because they did not know how to dance. Jenny was becoming hesitant about joining.

She finally decided to turn to one of her closest friends, Carl. Jenny and Carl had known each other since the first grade. Carl was unwilling to join at first because he also didn’t know how to dance. Jenny insisted. He eventually agreed to join the competition. Jenny was happy and relieved. However, she was still worried because she knew her class was counting on her to win this year’s competition.

All she needed was some time and practice in order to increase her chances of winning. This time, it was going to be more of a challenge considering the fact that Carl was not a good dancer. The competition was in two months, and only time could predict her chances of winning.

After selecting Carl as her partner, Jenny needed to start planning for the dance competition at her school.

Jenny and Carl went up to the stage and were ready to perform.

When something that’s important to you disappears, don’t be hopeless. It may miraculously (奇迹般地) come back sooner or later. I learned it on one winter day.

It was one of those busy days. Especially, I had lots of clothes to wash. and Karen, my four-year-old kid, kept following me, pulling my shirt and crying for attention. I was annoyed. To stop her troubling me and make her quiet, I searched the drawers in the bedroom and found-a bag of forgotten balloons. “Yellow,” she said with joy.

The balloons were the gifts for her that her uncle had bought abroad. These balloons were of good quality and very unique, unable to be found at least in our small town. Among the balloons, the yellow one was Karen’s favorite. And there was only one yellow balloon. She viewed it as her best friend and even signed her name on its surface.

After I blew the balloon up, she cheerfully took it with tiny fingers, touching it and telling it her secrets. Immediately. her attention was attracted.

After lunch. we prepared to go to the local public clothes-washing shop. Before long. I was ready. Carrying her yellow balloon. Karen followed me into oat car. On the way, she was singing and had fun with the balloon. She kept beating the balloon against the back of the car seat. As I turned the corner, trying to keep my attention on my driving, I felt a sudden, big wind blow across my feet. I called out at once, “Karen! Close the window. It’s cold out!”

And then I heard her frightened scream. In a hurry, I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see some terrible insects that led to her being frightened. But there wasn’t one. Karen was looking out of the window. both arms reaching out, as if to get something. And she cried, “Balloon, balloon. Come back! Come back!” Then. she turned to me, calling out, “Mom, please stop the car! My balloon has escaped.”

“Alright, “I said and slowly pulled over.

While walking in the park, we suddenly found a yellow balloon flying over a tree.