Twenty years ago, Charlotte attempted to call her sister in Bath, England. She intended to share the challenges and sorrows in her life with her sister. However, when she dialed the area code 01225, she accidentally punched in 01275 instead. This innocent mistake led her to reach Jones in Bristol, England.

Recalling about the fateful phone call, Jones said: “When Charlotte realized her error, she apologized sincerely. She was extremely polite and charming. Besides, Charlotte’s warmth and openness were immediately evident.”

In the following weeks, they called each other several times. Through their conversations, Jones discovered that Charlotte, who lived in Cornwall, England, had been trying to reach her sister.

Charlotte told that during a divorce with her husband, Jones had become a source of comfort for her. She expressed gratitude because Jones’ kindness and encouragement as a stranger had lifted her spirits. Over the next several years, the two forged a strong friendship through their phone conversations, discussing their children — Charlotte, a mother of two, and Jones, a father of three.

On Thanksgiving Day, Jones and his wife and children traveled to Cornwall. Finally meeting face-to-face, Charlotte exclaimed, “Oh, it was an remarkable day. The happiest Thanksgiving of my life, which I will never forget!” The sun shone brightly that day, warm as spring. It was a perfect day.

After their encounter, Jones posted a photo of himself with Charlotte on Facebook, along with a heartfelt message: “The distance between people in this world is just a wrong phone number. It’s truly unbelievable.”

Charlotte’s innocent mistake taught us an important lesson about the unexpected connections that can arise in life. Taking the initiative to reach out can lead to meaningful relationships that enrich our lives in ways we never imagined. We are reminded to cherish the unexpected connections that come into our lives and embrace the beautiful moments that they bring.

Many of us just laugh it away when they are told incredible (难以置信的) stories about other people, but I have a deep interest in these stories and I prefer to believe they are true. Here’s one I collected from a total stranger.

“Well, I was 11 when my family arrived at Fern Lake overlooking Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park. It was so beautiful to look miles across the Rockies and thousands of feet below into the valley. My parents were busy getting lunch out of the trunk so I climbed over the wooden fence to get closer to the cliff edge in the hope that I wouldn’t miss any beautiful sight down there.

I started down a little hill but soon started sliding on loose pebble rocks(鹅卵石). I fell on my back, but kept going faster and faster to what seemed the edge of the world (a 2,000 foot drop). In seconds I knew I was going to die. My feet and legs went first over the edge at a high speed. Then suddenly I felt two hands push hard on my chest and stopped me dead. My heart was racing and I slowly inched my body back to where I finally could make it back up the hill.

My father was waiting there and screaming at me for doing such a dangerous stunt (特技). I tried to tell him and my mom about the hands that held me back, but to this day they don’t believe me. They thought I was just trying to get out of trouble with a made-up story.”

We parted ways, but I assured her that I believed every word of her story. I could see a little surprise and happiness on her face.

That’s why I always ask people to share their miracles (奇迹). Each real story makes my days full of hope and gratefulness.

Looking at a pile of old photos, I couldn’t help feeling rather regretful.

I’ve never got into the habit of sorting out photos. However, it’s almost a habit of mine to have photos taken thoughtlessly. Thus, photos have been piling up in my childhood to womanhood. In spite of that, those black-and-white pictures taken in my early years are rarely kept, except a few survivals regarded as antiques. The bald baby picture of me that I treasured, the only one left, it’s now missing.

Familiar faces flash one by one before my eyes. Though the world is so small and we all live in it, yet we are separated by physical and psychological distances, some smaller, some larger. With the passage of time, one cannot, regretfully relive (重温) it with the same feeling as one had in the picture. What one can get from the old photos is but a bit of the past joy.

One takes pictures with different persons in different time and places. They fill one with nostalgia (怀旧) in various degrees — some more, some less, and others none. That’s why one has conflicting feelings towards the old photos. Still kept with the current ones, they’re even less favored than a daily-used cup, which is always close to the owner.

How these pieces of thought influence me! Photos keep our images rather than our sentiment, which may not remain. The image is always there but not its owner, whom the photo can’t keep, neither can it keep the event.

Of course, there are some of the photos still holding my affection, such as those taken with my family members, with favorite playmates, fellow girl-students and best friends, not only in pictures but also in my life and heart.

Now, since I have learned all this, I will not allow myself to be included casually in a photo taken with others. I’ll make sure that the friendship can last before I take a photo with somebody.