We first met Tom and Gee in the early days of our marriage. Someone had been 1 our garbage cans to the garage each garbage day, and Jim and I had wondered 2. Then one day we 3 him: an elderly man who lived across the street.
I baked cookies and left them on a chair outside the garage 4 a thank-you note. When we got home from work that day, a typed letter had replaced the 5. The letter was from Tom and explained how he had come to 6 the neighborhood on garbage day, returning cans for people he 7 knew. Back when he'd been fighting a war I wasn't alive to see, his young wife, Gee, had found herself living alone. Neighbors had taken the time to 8 her garbage cans so 9 didn't have to, and he 10 forgot. Now he paid it forward by doing the same for all of us.
A few years after we'd moved in, Tom died. We photocopied that letter and 11 it to one of our own for Gee. We told her how 12 Tom had been to us, how sad we felt sorry for her, how thankful we were to have 13 him. She wrote back and told us she still talked to Tom every day.
These days, we're planning a 14. The house that seemed so huge six years ago is filled with furniture and books and toys and, of course, people. We know it's time to go, and 15 we can't seem to stick the For Sale sign up on the lawn. Gaining a third bedroom sometimes seems like an awful trade for all we stand to 16.
It's not just Gee. It's the man who lets our kids pick peaches off the tree in his front yard. It's the ladies who 17 Jim when their pool filter (过滤器) breaks and leave overflowing baskets for our kids on Easter. It's the police officer living directly across from us, who smiles and waves and makes me feel a little 18 when Jim is away.
The moving boxes are still neatly packed in our basement, but Jim and I agree to 19 until January. Maybe before leaving I'll talk to Tom, just as Gee still does. Thank you, I'll say, for teaching us what it means to be a 20.
