Five months after my husband Steve died, I woke up one morning to the maddening sound of a leaking faucet（水龙头）. I knew it needed repairs badly, but it 1me so much just to think of it.
All our 2 life, I was the “artist” bringing to our house much imagination. Steve was the”3” one. He had a real gift for handling chores（家务活），4 me from unpleasant repair jobs.
But how could such a good man have his life cut short so suddenly! I had been so sad and angry that I completely 5 the house. That leaky faucet somehow awakened me to the fact that I now had to 6 the challenge of getting things fixed.
I got a workman named Ahmed. Entering the house, he stopped before a picture of Steve and me. “Doesn't your husband 7 this kind of work?” he asked. “It's not hard.”
“He died months ago. When he was alive, he did all the repair jobs 8.” I said quietly. Ahmed looked at me 9, but he didn't reply. He fixed the faucet, adjusted the dishwasher door, and replaced a showerhead. Apparently he was gifted as Steve had been.
He did a(n)10 job. I asked him to name his fee. “No charge, Ma'am,” he said. “My father died early, and the neighbors helped my family through.”
By fixing a faucet, Ahmed mended my soul. Although I would sure carry the pain of 11 with me along, Ahmed reminded me of the abundant 12 in the world.
