A Road Accident

Road accidents are reported in newspaper and on television every day. There are
more frequently caused by reckless drivers rather than faulty vehicles. Last Saturday,
while I was travelling from Ipoh, I witnessed a serious accident. The scene of the
accidents was vivid in my mind.
A motorcyclist was following behind was taxi very closely. He was so impatient
that he was trying to overtake my taxi even near a sharp bend. At that critical moment,
there was an oncoming car. The taxi driver swerved to the roadside and I got a terrible
jolt. It was too late for the motorcyclist to avoid the car. His motorcycle ran against the
bumper of the car and smashed its windscreen. The motorcyclist somersaulted over the
car and was found lying in a pool of blood. It was a scene to chill the flesh! The car driver,
who was cut by the flying glass, was in a state of shock. All that happened in split second
and fear overwhelmed us.
The taxi driver stopped his taxi and I quickly ran to the nearest to the nearest
telephone booth to inform the police and the hospital. From a distance I could see some
people trying to help the injured motorcyclist and the car driver. They carried them into
one of the onlookers car and sent them to the hospital for treatment. Meanwhile the taxi
driver tried to control and directs the traffic. Soon the police arrived and they promptly
took some measurements and evidence. After that they moved the damaged car and the
motorcycle to the roadside to ease the traffic congestion. They also took down the
evidence provided by witnesses and onlookers. Some sweepers were clearing the debris
and the blood stains on the road.
When the taxi finally continued the journey, I silently thanked God for my narrow
escape. I learned a good lesson that impatience and recklessness would bring harm and
danger. I was happy to see that Malaysians are public-spirited and they render help to
others readily. Since then I remember and follow the saying more haste less speed and
prevention is better than cure. I believe good road manners and roads safety campaigns
can help to reduce the number of road accidents which cause injuries, loss and lives and
properties.

Night market
One of the most interesting places in Malaysia is the night market. You may visit and
experience the night market yourselves. Both locals and foreigners agree that the night
market is the most common feature in the local society.
The night market begins when the vendors arrive in the late afternoon. More and more
goods laden vans arrive to begin a brisk day of business. Most of the vendors busily set
out to set up their stalls respectively in order to get ready for a brisk day of business.
The sun gradually sets and the night market picks up momentum. More cars and vans
are arriving. By now, the stalls are neatly and strategically arranged to entice their
customers. There is an assortment of goods sold ranging from food, toys and clothes, to
name a few. A variety of goods is sold at low prices.

Large rainbow-coloured parasols are used to shade the people from rain and shine. A
concoction of blaring music can be heard in the night market background amidst the
constant shouting. It is an amazing kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells and colours.
The night market is known as a haven by local gourmets who can enjoy various kinds of
mouth-watering local cuisine. Still more people arrive, they come from all walks of life,
mingling freely and harmoniously. Crowds are walking up and down in an endless stream.
Some of them are stopping by the stalls and haggling before making purchases. Little
children tag along, amused and excited. Sprinklings of tourists join in to experience the
lifestyle of typical Malaysian folks.
When night falls, lighted lamps brighten up the place, they add gaiety to this
atmosphere, and it is like a funfair. The night wears on and the traffic of people recedes.
Vendors get a chance to rest their weary legs besides bantering with each other.
By 10.00 pm, all the stalls call it a day. The vendors pack up and close the van doors. One
by one, they leave, leaving behind pieces of papers, plastic bags and discarded boxes. It
us an eyesore! Finally, the night market disappears. The place becomes quite and still
once more.

Narrative Essay: Forgiven

I stood motionless and looked at the solid, dark brown wooden door. The house was
painted white, and black on the wooden beams and window panes. It looked huge and
expensive from the outside. I had to make my mind up whether to knock or press the
bell. I turned to face the garden. I thought about going back to my car and drove home.
Home. That was where I wanted to be; or was it where I would be after I knocked the
door? I sighed and walked to the side where there was a wooden bench by the beautiful
garden. I could see that the woman in the family loved the garden. The smell of white
lilies reminded me of the florist down the road on Sixteenth Street. I sat on the sturdy
looking wooden bench, trying to figure out what I would say if someone was to open the
door. I wished I did not find out where she was so that I would not have three sleepless
nights thinking of why she left me, whether she was looking for me or whether I should
be angry.
I was abandoned at Bliss Home when I was barely four. They said they found me playing
joyfully in the playground, innocently thinking that I was sent to school. After three years,
I found out that my mother left me at the orphanage because she had to go and find my
father who left us when I was two. I was devastated, knowing that my mother left me to
strangers. Funny, I thought, how manipulative and contradictory adults could be when it
comes to giving advice. Those at Bliss Home took good care of me and made me realise
that I was still lucky to be able to enjoy life. Sister Lisa was one of those who managed to
make me see that I should make the most of myself than being miserable, grieving my
unfortunate life; thinking nobody loved me. I stayed there till I was 12, when I was then
transferred to Rouston Public School. Well, Sister Lisa thought it was a good school.
Spurred by Sister Lisas determination to give me life, I did my best in Rouston and
would go back to Bliss Home during semester breaks or Christmas to be part of the
family. Well, I was not sure whether I knew the meaning of that word, but Sister Lisa

convinced me that I was part of them when my presence was usually welcomed by
freshly baked apple pie and mince meat. Then we would all sit in our warm huge and
rather aromatic dining hall. I could still smell Marthas mouth-watering Yorkshire pudding
and roast beef in the kitchen whenever I visited Bliss Home.
It was 8 years ago when I started digging files and tailing endless documents to find out
who my biological parents were. Blessed, I found where my mother lived but was
reluctant to go and see her. I knew it would shake her down to her knees and she would
beg forgiveness for leaving me; that she was young and naive; that she would not have
managed looking after me on her own. Even worst, my presence would stop her heart;
that she would collapse unconsciously, leaving me feeling guilty instead. Sister Lisa was
the one who insisted. At the end of the year, I eventually gave in but forbade her from
calling Mom to inform that I was coming; in case I changed my mind. She gladly agreed
and even packed me cheese and tomato sandwiches for the journey. I was skeptical when
she said that Mom would be waiting for me. If mom knew where I was, why didnt she
come and find me?
My thoughts were interrupted by a butterfly flying right in front of my nose. I looked back
at the house to see if anyone noticed my presence. Silence. I glanced at my watch but I
forgot what time I arrived, so I did not know how long I was there. I stood up and walked
back to the sandy path leading to the house. I stopped at the wooden door again wishing
it was an automatic door so I did not have to decide. Spotting a shadow by the window
on my left, my heart pumped. Somebody was at the window and was walking towards
the door. I found it very hard to swallow a big lump in my throat as my heart thumped
against my chest. I thought that I was the one who would be unconscious.
Hi, can I help you? asked the girl who was standing in front of me with a huge grin. I
swallowed hard while admiring her curly blonde. Seeing that, I knew she must be Moms
daughter. She looked 15, lean and has beautiful brown eyes. Pretty.
Yess.. Ermm yeah.. I was looking for Mrs Collins. Hmm well, is this Mrs Collinss house by
any chance?
Ohh yeahh.. Hmm..Moms upstairs. And I think shes expecting you. Aunt Lisa told mom
this morning. She smiled pleasantly holding the door. Despite the dazzling big smile, I
could see the quizzical frowns on her forehead. I wondered whether it was because I
frowned first. Obviously Sister Lisa must have had said something to Mom.
I waited. Looking for words, 1 folded my arms unintentionally and looked away at the
lilies, biting my lower lips. I thought of saying that it was a big mistake and should just
walk back to my car. After all, it had been 25 years since she left me. It would not change
anything, would it?
Owh well, you must be freezing. Please come in, shell be down in a minute.
She opened the door and took my left hand, looked at me in the eyes as if to ask for
permission and pulled me inside. As I dragged my feet down the hallway, I could see a
family picture on the wall. Something stabbed me, right on my chest. Deep. I could feel
the pain that I felt years ago when I found out I was left on my own, and was on the
verge of tears. Again, I thought of walking back to the door but I brushed the thought
away when I heard the footsteps. It happened so quickly, I was not sure whether I was
actually there. My stomach tightened when I saw the hopeful look in her eyes.

William, ohh its you. Ive been waiting for you for what..like..30 years? I knew you would
find me. See, its in your nature. Being curious, that is.
Well, as if it was my mistake that she had to wait so long. I thought I was supposed to
wait for her to find me, or at least she should have gone to Bliss Home to find out.
Silence. I could not say anything looking at her fragile face. I noticed that her daughter
was standing by the small coffee table, looking out of the window expressionlessly,
pretending we were not there.

I looked at Mom pityingly and sighed. I was unsure of what to say. As if to wait for me to
invite her in her own living room, she stood by the door and smiled awkwardly. Despite
the quivered smile, I could still vaguely recognise those beautiful brown eyes when she
smiled. Then, she looked down at her hands, which she clenched and unclenched
nervously. I presumed that she was as uneasy as I was. After a moment, I cleared my
throat and forced a weak smile. Seeing that, she ran towards me and hugged me.
Sobbing. Tears welled in my eyes. I closed my eyes, afraid that anyone would see me, but
I knew she was forgiven.

Narrative Essay: Home

In 1998, a civil war broke out around the district of Mai Chau in Vietnam and Luang
Prabang in Laos. Both sides respective leaders had a conflict regarding the goal of
uniting these two countries under a communist rule ruled by the Army of Republic of
Vietnam (ARVN). Instead of discussing the current issue together, both sides decided to
become juvenile and resort to violence instead.
Almost all districts of Hanoi were severely disrupted. Historical buildings and residential
compounds collapsed and destroyed by the tanks and military armies. The town suffered
a rash of arson attacks. Dead corpses lying on the ground, children crying and screaming
everywhere, terrifying sounds of gun shots and bombs. It was an utter mess.
Before the war was getting much more chaotic than it already is, my family and I decided
to flee from Vietnam. We packed all the necessary things and sneaked out of Hanoi using
an overnight train that lead us to the city of Bac Ninh. Upon our arrival, we rushed to the
International Airport of Bac Ninh. Luckily, with the help of our cousin, Vrinh who worked
as an officer there, we were able to bypass the strict airport checkups and landed
ourselves in Minnesota, USA.
Things were complicated when we first started our new lives in the United States of
America. My parents and older siblings were trying their hardest to make ends meet in
order to support the family. Being a naive 10 years old I was back then, I could only sit
there and watch. After awhile, my family was finally financially stable; we were able to
buy a comfortable ranch-styled house big enough for us to live in and I was enrolled to an
Asian American private school. 15 years later, I find myself working as a music teacher in

a public school.
Every time I played the piano, I always reminisce the memories during my time in
Vietnam. So, me and my brother decided to pay a visit to our home in Vietnam. Both of
us flew to Mai Chau to witness the current condition of the area.
As I stepped forward to the isolated and deserted place, cold air around me slowly
dissipated as the sudden warmth enveloped around me to the core of my spine.
This is the place where I grew my wings. This is the place whom I shared memories with
my deceased grandmother. This is the place where I used to run around with my dear
friends, Ming and Cho. This is the place in which I developed my interest for music after
listening my former neighbor played the violin and piano. My childhood memories are still
vividly attached to this place.
As I squad down feeling the dusty ground with my bare hand, tears pierced through my
eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I braved a smile and whispered
Home.
Couple Foils Robbery Attempt
PULAU PINANG, Thu An elderly businessman and his wife foiled a robbery attempt by
two men armed with a screwdriver and a knife. The victims were reported safe from any
bad injury.
Tan Ah Wok, 60 and his wife were taking a morning walk near their home in Helen
Heights yesterday when two men on a motorcycle stopped them under the pretext of
asking for directions. As Mr. Tan was giving directions, one of the robbers pointed a knife
at him and ordered them to keep quiet. He then relieved Mrs. Tan of her jewellery and
instructed Mr. Tan to hand over his ring and watch. When he refused, a struggle ensued.
Meanwhile, his accomplice grabbed a helmet and hit Mr. Tan on the head with it. On
seeing this, his wife started screaming.
One of their neighbours, R. Subramaniam, who was taking his dog for a walk,
heard the screams and when to investigate. On seeing Subramaniam and his dog, the
robbers fled. I was taking my dog for a walk when I heard someone shouting for help.
Knowing that something was wrong, I ran there as fast as I could. Before I reached the
scene, the robbers fled on a motorbike. They were probably afraid of my Rottweiler.
Mr. Tan, who suffered a small cut on his head, was given outpatient treatment at
a private clinic. He said that it was a horrified experience as he never expected the two
men would attack his wife and him. He thought that they were lost and needed help. He
also mentioned that the guard who in charge nowadays easily allowed the strangers to
enter their residents. State CID Chief Supt Harun Din advised him and the people to be
more careful in giving help to strangers. The guard also must be stricter in letting people
from entering any residents without proper permission.
He added that the suspects, aged between 25 and 30, were believed to be illegal
immigrants. He said there had been similar incident last week when two men approached
a factory worker who was on her way home after work. The duo then relieved her gold
chain and cash. He advised the residents to be alert and reports to police any suspiciouslooking characters lurking in their area.

A Holiday I Would Never Forget

Holidays, a time everyone gets hyped up over, parents planning activities for the family
to spend quality time with and school children ( as well as teachers) jumping for joy.
Hello, waking up late, celebrating, goin for tuition and best of all, vacations! In myy case,
a holiday I would never forget is a fruitful one I expereinced five years ago, where my
family I spent six days in the land of K-Pop and ' kimchi '- Korea.
Finally, after ages of waiting, our family arrived in beautiful Korea. Stepping out of
the plane, we could feel the chilly weather to our bones. Never experiencing that kind of
weather, my siblings and I were totally excited. Passing through immigration and
baggage claim, we were talking animatedly about our new surroundings. Since we went
with tour group, we knew we were in good hands.
Incident number one. We were supposed to take a bus to check in at the hotel, as
instructed. I guessed I was overeager and without thinking. I ran to a random bus and
knocked on the door. The young bus driver opened the door and looked at me with a
puzzled expression. He started asking me something in Korean, which of course I did not
understand. I tried to reply in English, but before I could make the attempt, my father
quickly apologized to the driver and walked me back to the tour group who was watching
from afar, shaking with laughter.
It turned out that the bus I was running to was not the bus we were supposed to take. I
dismissed my burning cheeks. I was glad I could be the butt of everyone's jokes on my
first day in a foreign country.
It was a bit past lunch time when we were done checking in our hotel. Not doubt,
everybody's stomachs were grumbling. Thank God after checking in, we were going to
have our lunch and do a bit of sightseeing. While waiting for the others outside the hotel,
we walked around nearby. There was a row of vending machines that sold various snacks
and beverages, including Haagen Dazs ice-cream , and instant noodles. My mother had a
craving for Nescafe, so she spent her first Korrean money on that.
At the restaurant, a delicious meal was already spread out for us. That was the first
time we all tried kimchi, a spicy and sour vegetable side dish.I did not think it was
horrible, buut I preferred the fish kimchi much better. We all ate using chopsticks, so that
was kind or awkward for me and my siblings, as we were not skilled at using them yet.
Being Malaysians, we were used to rice, so it was a good thing that the Korean meal
included rice and a few other side dish, eaten from a Bento box. It was weird though, the
rice was stickier compared to the rice we eat at home, mainly to make it easier to eat
using chopsticks. There was also hot and scumptious miso soup together with the meal.
Since my sister and my brother did not like it much, I finshed up theirs. I gulped the warm
soup down my throat- a nice connntrast from the shivering weather outside.
One of the highlights of our activities that we did in Korea was skiling. Everybody
from the tour group was looking forward to that, even the 52-year old couple traveling
with us. Since it was'nt fully snownig yet, the hill was coverred with artificial snow. After
grobbing our ski gear, we listen to a briefing by the instructor. He was very help ful,
especially with us kids annd the elderly couple.
Feeling jumpy and hyperactive, me and my sister made our way to the cable car

and successfully skied down a slope. I thought, " We're natural at this," and my sister
could not agree more. When we came to see how our parents and brother were doing,
my brother started to throw a snowball towards me and my sister. It hit me, and we
started having a small snowball fight of our own, just like in the movies! I guessed we got
a bit out of hand and my sister accidentally hit a woman's back. when she turned around,
she had this angry look on her face and started to walk towards us.I hurried my siblings
to continue skiing with our parents,and we ran away before she cold catch us. Breathless,
we giggled innaivety as we recapped the moment.
In a way, skiing is like swimming. Why do I say so? Well, when swimming ,you do not
feel tired , but you would see the effect when you get ravenous and eat more after a
session or when you aintend to tke a nap, but it is extended to long hours. The same
goes to skiing. When we arrived at the hotel after skiing, we were drained out and
starving. Instant noodles saved the day! We all ate curry-flavoured Maggi together,
savouring the memontary pleasure. We also dozed off quite early that night , right after
going for a walk to enjoy the amazing night view of th mountains, and breathing the cool,
fresh winter air.
Shopping in Korea was also different compared to Malaysia. Its malls were packed
with small shops or stalla on every floor. Big boutiques were not seen as much as the
quaint kiosks. Nevertheless, I found shopping at their markets more enjoyable, especially
because you could haggle the price. Their specialities were crystals, fabrics and
outerwear. Apart form that, I also liked their wet markets , mainly because they were
very clean and they did not have that fishy smell. I remembered a shocking incident
when walking through the stalls of the wet market. A large fish jumped out its aquarium
and onto the floor. I stared at it and suddenly, I saw a huge cutting knife slicing through
the fish's neck! It was the owner of the stall's doing. Then, the owner left the fish flapping
around lifelessly without a head.
There was also a treasure trove among the stalls of the wet market- a tiny shoop
which served grilled seafood. My family stepped into the shop and ordered some grilled
fish and cockles.
After saying our prayers, we devoured our mouth-watering find of the day. Dripped
in a type of souce, the seafood was the best I had ever eaten, as you could taste the
freshness. Or maybe I was just hungry after a full day of activities.
If it was up to me, there were so many things to write on my memorabe trip to
Korean. Not onli we got to spend quality time together as a family, but we also learnt
countless new things and even discovered hidden talents. My father always said we
should travel with an open mind and an open heart. This is when you get to see your
capability to adapt to changes. Just enjoy the simple things in life and be thankful of what
you have. So, do just that. Who knows you might discover a part of yourself you never
know existed?

Write a story starting with: The widow had to work hard to bring up her little son
alone...
The widow had to work hard to bring up her little son alone. This was after her husbands
early death. She and her son lived in a wooden house. It was a small house with only one
bedroom and a kitchen.

Mariam wanted Sam to study hard to get good result. So she would not let Sam
help her do any household chores or wash his own clothes. The years flew by. Sam sat for
his SPM examination and pass with flying colours.
His mother was very happy. She went round telling her friends, My Sam will be
leaving for the city to study in a college. He will become a Manager one day. Ill move to
live with him in the city. Then, my struggle is worth it.
So Mariam continued to work hard to send money to Sam who was studying a
business degree. For Mariam, it was a tough life. Meanwhile, Sam kept on phoning home
to ask for more money. Mariam even had to borrow from her neighbours and friends to
send her son the money.
Three years Sam stopped calling home. He did not even let his mother where he
was. When she phoned the faculty, they told her that he had graduated and left for job.
However, they could not her more. Mariam was baffled. Where was Sam? She was so
sure he would come back and fetch her for city. So, she started to pack some of her bags
and boxes.
Three months later, there was still no news or call from Sam. One day, Mariams
niece, Kate, came to talk to her about Sam. She told her aunt, Auntie, a friend of mine
met Sam in a bank. Hes the branch manager. This is his address.
Early in the morning, Mariam took the first bus to the city. At the bus station, she
took a taxi and showed the taxi driver the bank address. On the way there, she told the
driver about Sam and what a filial son he was.
The driver stopped his taxi in front of a tall building. She got out of the taxi and
smiled at him happily. This was the moment she was going to meet Sam. She imagined
him showing surprise and delight at meeting his mother. Inside the building, a security
guard asked her who she was looking for. She told the guard Sams name.
The bank staff saw an old lady holding a worn-out handbag. They were
wondering, Who is this woman? Why is she asking for our manager?
Meanwhile, Sam pretended he did not know his mother. Feeling disgusted and
ashamed, he asked the security guard to ask her to leave. Mariam was shocked to hear
that! She looked Sam in a disappointed feeling ever, and ran out of the bank.
Back in her house, Mariam cried the whole night. She cried and cried till she had
no more tears. The next morning, she was sitting by the window with Sams photo on her
lap. She saw him walking towards their house. Soon she was shouting and crying, My
Sam is back! My Sam is back!
Sam ran towards her and hugged Mariam as he never let go. He was so sorry and
regretted the way he behaved. His colleagues were the one who made him realized his
big mistakes neglected his mother.
The neighbours heard her. They too shouted and cheered, feeling happy for her.

That is the reward for my patience and hardwork

No guts no glory. No pain no gain. Those are my life mottos. I feel that nothing can be
achieved by simply sitting and doing absolutely nothing to make dreams come true. Life
can be so hard especially when you are not born with silver spoon in yuor mouth. It is
also the time when true friends are hard to comeby just because you do not much money
to treat them at Kentucky Fried Chicken or Burger King. That is something that I have
experienced ever since my family moves to this metropilitan city and I study in the new
school.
In my new school I study hard to complete with all my fellow classmates who come
from all walks of life but most are from rich background. They have all that I have ever
wanted in my life but fail to get. They can buy branded shoes and clothes, unlike my
worn out Bata. They afford the latest handphones brands with the latest technology but
me? There is nothing I could do to be on par with them. So, I just let them show off their
fancy gadgets without feeling remorse with the fact that I am only an ordinary student
coming from a family clerk. I just feel sad that they act as if I do not have feelings. I do
not feel the least discourage since I know that I can also be like them one day if I work
hard enough to score in my SPM exam.
Day after day, night after night, I do not to do anything else but concentrate on my
studies. Spm examination is just around the corner and I have no other wish apart from
wanting to pass Spm with Flying colours. My parents are my inspirations. They always
remind me to work hard and hange our fate, make them proud as well as prove to
everybody that a son of a plain clerk can also succeed in life and deserve some respect.
At times, I feel so stressed out that I almost give up and cry. Nevertheless, thinking of my
parent's hope and wishes, I would never surrender and that is my final decision. I engage
myseld in group discussion, have consultations with my Physics and Chemistry teachers,
the two subjects that I am weak at as well as burn as much midnight oil as possible to
atain my ultimate goal-10A+ in the exam. Sometimes, I feel overworked myself but I
know I have to muster every single once of my strength to pull through this ordeal and
pray that it will end soon.
The most awaited moment has arrived. With prayers and good luck wishes from my
father and mother, I step into my examination hall with full awareness that I have to do
really well in the exam to realize all my parent's dreams and mine. The torturous
moments last for three weeks and as far as I am concerned time really flies but I trust
myself that I have given my very best for each paper.
March 2015 comes I heard on the television that the SPM 2014 result will be out
today. With anticipation and nervousness I walk to school with my good friend Samah. I
cannot imagine getting less than 8A+ because according to my conselor, only getting
8A+ will I be able to secure any scholarship, something which is very important to me
due to my parent's incapability to pay for my tertiary education. The moment Ms. Asiah,
my form teacher hands me the result slip, my heart skips a bea. i am cold from feet to
toe from the suspense. Then the moment arrives! It is the most unforgettable time of my
life. I mange to get 10A+ and my prayer has been answered. Thank God for giving me
apportunity to succeed and make my parents proud. That is the reward for my patience
and harwork.

Life is Precious:My Car Accident Story

I believe life is precious. You can only live one life, unfortunately. Death, can sweep you away in an
instant. Some people just let it happen, but others are just too stubborn to give up. I have a person in
my life that has experienced this, along with myself.
In late January of this past year, 2009, I experienced a traumatic experience. My mother was driving my
friend, me, and my brothers to my dads house. My youngest brother, my friend, and I, were in the
backseat and my eldest brother was in the passenger seat. My friend, my brother, and I were joking
around and laughing in the backseat, when all of a sudden, the world went black. I opened my eyes
moments later only to see my mother crying helplessly and weakly for help. I looked to my left, where
my friend was, she was calling for her mother, saying I want my mom, where is my mom? and
complaining that her shoulder hurt. I then looked to my right, and saw my little brother crying, and
breathing harshly and saying Mom wake up, Mom!!! I, felt like crying but could not, I had to keep my
brother and my friend, who are both two years younger than me, calm. My eldest brother, surprisingly
was fine. He asked me if I was alright, and I responded by saying, my head hurts. My brother suddenly
looked at the side of my face, and said Jade put your gloves on your face. I was wondering why so of
course I did it, then looked down at my glove, only to realize that my head was bleeding. It wasnt
painful though, it was just, numb. I kept pressure on my head, still using my glove. Then, I heard my
eldest brother say, Get out of the car. First my friend walked out, followed by myself, and my younger
brother walked out to the other side.
When we were fully out of the car, my mom was still trapped inside. Her door had been caved in and she
was unable to move. I shed a tear, then quickly ran across the now, very backed up intersection, to the
gas station across the way. There was a college aged boy standing there, on a cell phone, seemingly
calling 911. I stood there for a second, until I saw him hang up. I said politely Can you please call my
dad? He responded by saying, Of course, sweetie, of course, whats the number? I quickly told him
and he dialed right away. I heard my fathers deep soothing voice say Hello? Yes, hello I am he said
his name, and I am standing here at the intersection of 6th street and Walnut with your daughter, her
mother and siblings have just experienced a very bad car accident said the man. I will be there right
away I heard my father say. A police officer walked up to us and told us that it was too cold to be
standing outside, and rushed us to his car.
My brothers, my friend and I were sitting in the police car when we suddenly saw my father sprinting
toward my mothers car and looking around, obviously wondering where we were. The doors dont open
from the inside in a police car, so I tapped on the window, directing toward my brother who was
standing outside, and told him to open the door. He opened the door, and then I told him that my dad
was there, I spotted him again, then ran into his arms. At this point, there were firefighters prying my
mothers car door open, and carrying her out on a stretcher. I watched as the ambulance rushed her
away, began to cry, and then realized that my little brother was standing right next to me. He was not
breathing well and his face was beat red. My little brother is an asthmatic, so I immediately alerted a
medic.
Just then, a medic walked up to me, and started to clean my face with alcohol rub. She then put a
cotton bandage on the side of my eye. The cut was not as bad as all of the blood made it look. The
medic then told me to go find my brothers then follow her to the ambulance.
Once we were in the ambulance, one of the medics inside put my little brother on a breathing machine,
which basically, was just helping him to breathe better and to get oxygen back into his lungs. My friend
and I were on a ledge seat by the window and my oldest brother was sitting on a chair in the back, and
my dad was sitting up front with the person driving the ambulance.

We quickly arrived at the hospital where we were each assigned a room, my friend and I were in a room
together, and my brothers were each in their own rooms.
After we had all been released to go, I asked the nurse if we could go see my mom and she said we
could. We went into my moms room on the recovery floor. She had a bloody lip and told us that she
cracked her pelvic bone, and broke some of her ribs.
This is when I realized that you dont know how much you love someone, until they are fighting for their
life just so they can live to see your face everyday.
My mom is my idol. She has fought for her life in order to stay in mine and my siblings. She has
dumped guys she really liked, because she knows that when things are real bad, we are the ones that
help her get through it the most. She has even gone days without eating so that we could eat.
I look to my mom for everything, and am hoping she will be around for a long time.
Death, can sweep you away in an instant. Some people just let it happen, but others are just too
stubborn to give up.

Love Lives On

The letter was addressed to me.

Your eyes captivated me months ago, it read.
I would like very much to get to know the person behind those eyes.
I was a part-time hostess during my first year of college. Working the breakfast shift, I greeted
customers and poured coffee. One day, my coworker Bernie said that her friend Mark, who often came
for breakfast, wanted to meet me. She introduced us.
A day later, Bernie handed me Marks letter. He was so nervous, he wrote, that hed forgotten to ask for
my phone number. When he next came in, I teased, So, do you want my number or not? He whipped
out a notepad.
Mark had brown eyes, broad shoulders and an even broader grin. His strong arms were perfect for great
big hugs. A year later, after a romantic dinner in Georgetown, he proposed at the Jefferson Memorial.
During our honeymoon, Mark and I visited his mother in Florida, a trip we looked forward to each year. I
used to say that Mark controlled the weather, since it was always in our favor whenever we traveled.
Six years later, Marks mother passed away. Driving back from the cemetery, the Florida sky was
breathtaking. Suddenly, a rainbow appeared. The colorful arch was like a comforting beacon. At that
moment, Mark and I made a pact that, when one of us passed on, wed send the other a rainbow.
As time went by, we found ourselves drawn to Williamsburg, Virginia, a quaint setting where time
seemingly stood still. In 2003, we realized our dream to put down roots there. Whenever wed see an
elderly couple strolling hand in hand, Mark would smile and say, Thats going to be us some day. In
July 2004, we celebrated our 25th anniversary.
One month later, Mark was diagnosed with cancer. He underwent aggressive chemotherapy and bravely
bore the pain with strength and humor. As his breathing worsened and he could no longer lie in bed, we

went to buy him a reclining chair. A sales associate approached, asking how he could help. Well, seems
my numbers up, Mark joked. Were looking for a recliner so I can get some sleep.
On November 15, my mother called to tell me my father had died. His service at Arlington Cemetery was
set for mid-December. Marks sister, Judi, offered to come stay with him so I could go. By the time she
arrived, however, Mark was in intensive care. After several hours by his side, I encouraged her to get
some rest.
Alone with Mark, I turned down the lights, held his hand and buried my face in his shoulder. Its okay
for you to move on when youre ready, I whispered. Just remember to send me that rainbow.
Mark passed away on December 15. He was 54.
On the day of Marks service, friends and family huddled under umbrellas to launch balloons filled with
loving messages. Afterward, I looked out the kitchen window at the rain-soaked sky. Mark, you always
controlled the weather, I thought. Why not today?
Just then, golden rays pierced the clouds. With a wave of expectancy, I grabbed my mothers hand and
asked everyone to follow me outside. Looking upward, I smiled.
And as we watched in awe, a double rainbow arced across the sky.
What do I believe? That true love never dies. It lives on in our heartsand in the miracles that are there
for us when we need them the most.