英语文章

　　She shuffles up the steps with the last of her strength. Her pink sweatpants are tinged with brown, and her feet are buried in city-stained bunny slippers. Her eyes look like theyve seen so much sadness theyre forever doomed to apathy. They are eyes dazed with the work it takes to stay warm, and weary of the excess of privileged people. Im looking at those glass eyes and thinking that she reeks of survival; that Im too cold to move, and all Im doing is waiting for the first train home.

　　Out comes her wrinkled, begging hand. We turn out our pockets and find nothing. The mouth of the station swallows her descending, dejected frame.

　　Light another smoke. We are pushing reluctant time forward as it digs its heels in at the dusty smells and sounds of old stories, at the sucking of smoke, at our involuntary shivers.

　　Shes back again. The wrinkled hand, heavy with pleading, is now answering.

　　She drops four warm quarters into my palm and says, Get yourselves a cup of coffee. Merry Christmas.

　　The station gulps her up again before we can say thank you.

　　The Board Meeting had come to an end. Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age. Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. Someone said, Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment.

　　Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood. I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family. Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home. He looked at us and said, I wish you could have met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish.

　　Frank's voice dropped a bit. When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. That truck was older than he was. It would wheeze and rattle down the road. You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke. He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me goodbye!

　　He paused and then went on, I remember the day I decided I was too old for a goodbye kiss. When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, 'No, Dad.'

　　It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face. I said, 'Dad, I'm too old for a goodbye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss.' My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. He turned and looked out the windshield. 'You're right,' he said. 'You are a big boy....a man. I won't kiss you anymore.'

　　Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats.

　　I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again. Guys, you don't know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek....to feel his rough old face....to smell the ocean on him....to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a goodbye kiss.

　　Friendship is indispensable to people's life. A man without friends is an angel without wings, whose life will suffer in the long tolerance of loneliness and depression. Friendship is the mother of our psyche, who'll warm her kid when hurt occurs. We have much to share with our friends in life, perplexity, excitement, bitterness etc. Alas, it's magnificent to maintain a genuine friendship.

　　It takes many special qualities to make a friend. Understanding should come first. Only when we get a better understanding of each other can we gain an authentic and meaningful friendship. We may find our hobbies of common interests. This feeling of affinity gets us closer and closer.

　　It also takes a special kind of love that seems to know no end. Never hesitate to show your heartfelt care and kindness to your friend when he/she is in trouble. Love is not selfish. Love is endowed by God that we should treasure all our life.

　　Tolerance is the third essential part in friendship. We are absolutely different persons. This individual distinction may cause conflict between us in every aspect of our life. Don't immerse ourselves in this infliction too long. Try to tolerant his/her in an introspective mood. Saints are not perfect, let alone those ordinary people like us. Afterwards, we should get a good communication. Never shy to confess.

　　Understanding, love and tolerance are the first three essences that comes to an authentic friendship. Other qualities are also concerned such as thoughtfulness, trust and patience. Remember, friendship is your psyche's guard, treasure it.

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