初中英语作文5100字：ASandpiperToBringYouJoy
she was si years old when i first met her on the beach near where i live. i drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. she was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.hello, she said. i answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. im building, she said.
i see that. what is it? i asked, not caring.
oh, i dont know, i just like the feel of sand.
that sounds good, i thought, and slipped off my shoes. a sandpiper glided by.
thats a joy, the child said.
its a what?
its a joy. my mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy. the bird went glissading down the beach. good-bye joy, i muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. i was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.
whats your name? she wouldnt give up.
ruth, i answered. im ruth peterson.
mines wendy... im si.
hi, wendy.
she giggled. youre funny, she said. in spite of my gloom i laughed too and walked on. her musical giggle followed me.
come again, mrs. p, she called. well have another happy day.
the days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly boy scouts, pta meetings, and ailing mother. the sun was shining one morning as i took my hands out of the dishwater. i need a sandpiper, i said to myself, gathering up my coat. the ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me.
the breeze was chilly, but i strode along, trying to recapture the serenity i needed. i had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.
hello, mrs. p, she said. do you want to play?
what did you have in mind? i asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
i dont know, you say.
how about charades? i asked sarcastically.
the tinkling laughter burst forth again. i dont know what that is.
then lets just walk. looking at her, i noticed the delicate fairness
of her face. where do you live? i asked.
over there. she pointed toward a row of summer cottages. strange, i thought, in winter.
where do you go to school?
i dont go to school. mommy says were on vacation. she chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. when i left for home, wendy said it had been a happy day.
feeling surprisingly better, i smiled at her and agreed. three weeks later, i rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. i was in no mood to even greet wendy. i thought i saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.
look, if you dont mind, i said crossly when wendy caught up with me, id rather be alone today.
she seems unusually pale and out of breath.
why? she asked.
i turned to her and shouted, because my mother died! and thought, my god, why was i saying this to a little child?
oh, she said quietly, then this is a bad day.
yes, and yesterday and the day before and-oh, go away!
did it hurt?
did what hurt? i was easperated with her, with myself.
when she died? of course it hurt! i snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. i strode off.
a month or so after that, when i net went to the beach, she wasnt there. feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself i missed her, i went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. a drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
hello, i said. im ruth peterson. i missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.
oh yes, mrs. peterson, please come in wendy talked of you so much.
im afraid i allowed her to bother you. if she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.
not at all-shes a delightful child, i said, suddenly realizing that i meant it. where is she?
wendy died last week, mrs. peterson. she had leukemia. maybe she didnt tell you. struck dumb, i groped for a chair. my breath caught.
she loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldnt say no.
she seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. but the last few weeks, she declined rapidly... her voice faltered.
she left something for you...if only i can find it. could you wait a moment while i look?
i nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. she handed me a smeared envelope, with mrs. p printed in bold, childish letters. inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues-a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. underneath was carefully printed: a sandpiper to bring you joy
tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. i took wendys mother in my arms. im so sorry, im sorry, im so sorry, i muttered over and over, and we wept together.
the precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. si words- one for each year of her life- that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love. a gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color sand--- who taught me the gift of love.