We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.
Growing up, I wanted to be just like my mom. Kind and caring, she always seemed to make people comfortable in her presence. For years she was a volunteer in our community. I loved going to the local nursing home to help with her until I hit my preteen years. Suddenly, I was too caught up in my adolescent world to worry about helping others.
One particular summer day when I was twelve, Mom came into my room and told me to get up and meet her at the car. I had planned to spend the day at the lake with friends. Why did she have to ruin everything? Eventually, I made my way outside. I imagined the lake water cooling my skin. Annoyed, I climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. I sat in silence, too upset to make a conversation.
"Tasha, would you like to know where we are going?" Mom asked calmly.
"I guess…" I murmured under my breath.
"Sweetheart, we are going to a children's shelter. I have been there before and I think it would benefit you," she explained.
I felt a knot slowly form in my stomach. How was I supposed to help there?
When we reached the shelter, I was rather surprised. It was a large white Victorian home. As we approached the large front porch, wind bells played a calming tune while trees and blossoms welcomed us. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.
Mom rang the doorbell. The door flew open and we were led to the front room, where all of the children were playing. Toys were spread out across the floor. I noticed a baby whose body was scarred with wounds. The majority of the children had noticeable physical scars (伤疤) such as cuts and burns. What a terrible life they had had before they moved here! My heart sank.
