During my stay at an orphanage (孤儿院)at the age of 9, a gentleman came and taught us how to do woodworking projects. I remember my first project—a small table. I was so 1of it that I looked upon it as if I had created a(an)2.It was absolutely beautiful and it had taken me six weeks to3it. I could hardly wait to give it to Mother Winters as a 4.She was the head mistress of our orphanage, who was always kind but 5 with us.
As the tables were not dry from the clear coating, the man told us to wait a few days before taking them to our dormitories. But I was just so6and happy that I couldn't wait I dashed out like a 7,carrying my table, smiling from ear to ear.
When I reached the dormitory I placed the little table beside my bed. I was8it when Mother Winters entered. She walked over to the table. Running her hand 9it, she noticed that it was still wet.
“Were you10 to bring this home?”she asked.
“No, ma'am,” I 11with my head down.
She ordered me to throw the table out and so I did. After she left, I immediately opened the door to get it back. There was12stuck all over. I brushed and cried, but the dirt would not come off. I hid the table in my closet and never 13 it. However, a year later during a cleaning-up, it was discovered. Painfully, I had to give the table to Mother Henderson, my houseparent, thinking that she would14 it away.
Thirty years later at a reunion ,I 15that Mother Henderson was living nearby, so I drove up to see her. We talked cheerfully for long. As I was about to leave, she asked me to come down to her16to get something important. I followed her17into a dark corner. She picked something up.18she turned around, I could see that she was holding a little table. Mother Henderson kept the little table that I had given up for lost so long ago.
Today, I look at that table with bittersweet memories but full of19 to Mother Henderson, who kept the table for a young orphan who 20 it so much.
