I'm not sure when I fell in love with you for the first time, I think maybe it was as early as the first time we hugged, or the first time I realized that you like me a little bit. I'm not sure. I just remember that I miss you more and more, and I do less and less in the process.
I remember that I hope you stay so bad and so excited. When I think of the phone ringing, I pray that I am You, but I hope it's not because I don't know that in this world, when I feel anxious and stuttering, I will sound romantic and impressive. Sometimes I will be surprised how I become so anxious, excited and considerate to you.
I think maybe because I just fall in love with you again and again.
When I was in primary school, there was an unforgettable thing between my teacher and me. It was a lesson we learned by ourselves. When our English teacher came in to answer our questions, she suddenly walked past me, stroked my hand and whispered that my hand felt cold.
I should wear more clothes. I was moved that she was my teacher, but sometimes she looked like a mother It's a sweet and unforgettable thing in my life.
A Thanksgiving editor of the newspaper said that a school teacher asked her first graders to draw a picture of what they were grateful for. She thought about how few children from poor communities actually needed to thank, but she knew that most of them would draw turkeys or food on the table. The teacher saw Douglas hand over a smiling hand, but he did The hand was fascinated by the abstract image.
I think it must be the hand of God that brought us food. One child said, one farmer said the other, because he finally planted Turkey while others were working. The teacher, bentof Douglas's desk, asked whose hand was your hand.
He murmured that she often held Douglas's hand, one in rags She often does this with her children, but it means a lot to Douglas. Maybe it's everyone's Thanksgiving, not to give us material, but to give other people opportunities, no matter how small.