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ItwasChristmas1961.Iwasteachinginasmalltownwheremytwenty-seventhirdgraderseagerly 36 thegreatdayofgift-givinginadvance. Eachdaythechildrenproducedsomenew 37 —stringsofpopcorn,handmadetrinkets,andGermanbell.Throughitallsheremainedalone, 38 fromadistance,seeminglymilesaway.Iwonderedwhat 39 happentothisquietchild,oncesohappy,nowsuddenlysowithdrawn.Ihopedthefestivitieswould 40 her.Butnothingdid.Thestudentsmadethefriedmarbles（油炸玻璃弹子）andcompetedwithoneanthertobringthe 41 ones. Thedayofgift-givingfinallycame.Wecheeredoverourhandiworkasthepresentswere 42 .Allalong,shesatquietlywatching.Toseehersmile,Ihadmadeaspecialbagforher.Sheopeneditsoslowlyandcarefully.Iwaitedbutshe 43 .Ihadnotpassedthroughthewallofisolationshehad 44 aroundherself. AfterschoolIsatdowninachair,hardly 45 ofwhatwashappening,whenshecametomewithoutstretchedhands,bearingasmallwhitebox,andslightlysoiled, 46 ithadbeenheldmanytimesby 47 ,childishhands.Shesaidnothing.“Forme?”Iasked.Shesaidnotaword,but 48 herhead.Itooktheboxandcautiouslyopenedit.Thereinside,glisteninggreen,afriedmarble 49 fromagoldenchain.ThenIlookedintothateight-year-old 50 andsawthequestioninherdarkbrowneyes.InaflashIknew—shehad 51 itforhermother,whohaddiedjustthreeweeksbeforeandwouldneverholdherorbrushherhairor 52 herchildishjoysorsorrows. ImeantitwhenIwhispered,“Oh,Maria,itissobeautiful.Yourmotherwould 53 it.”Neitherofuscouldstopthe 54 .Shethrewherselfintomyarmsandwewepttogether.AndforthatbriefmomentIbecamehermother,forshehadgivenmethegreatest 55 ofall:hertrustandlove. |
