When coming to this city for high school, I moved into the new house with my parents. We were very grateful to the owner for renting us this house at a cheap price. The house was really comfortable to live in. It was warm inside and full of life outside.
A tree in the front yard attracted my attention, and all I could confirm was that it was a fruit tree. My father thought it was a fig(无花果) tree, and sure enough, as the months went by, the tree grew huge leaves and finally bore the fruit—figs, the size of my fist. How wonderful they were! I took many pictures of the fig tree. And then we wondered how to deal with the figs. My mother thought for a while and said, "Why not try making fig jam?" I responded quickly, "That's a good idea!"
Jack, one of our neighbors, just visited us and asked if he could pick some figs from our tree. Certainly, we encouraged him to take as many as he liked. In fact, Jack was extremely polite and friendly to us. He introduced himself at the first sight of us. He always waved to me as he came home or as he left for work.
When I picked the figs with him, he told me about how he had been living in the house next door for close to twenty years. He said, "Bruce, the owner of the house you live in now, used to be my best friend. And we had planted this very fig tree a few years before he went to the nursing home." I was amazed to know that we actually enjoyed the fruit of his work. He told me that he was so impressed by the quality of the fruit this year. I found a fruit box for him to put the figs in. Both of us enjoyed the pleasure of sharing.
When Jack set out for his home, I turned to my parents and advised doing something in return for Jack and Bruce's kindness and friendliness.
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Finally, we decided to invite Jack and his family to dinner that night.
……
The next day, our family and Jack visited Bruce in the nursing home.
