My father brought home a sailboat when I was ten, and almost each Sunday in summers we would go sailing. Dad was quite skilled in sailing, but not good at 1. As for me, I 2both before twelve because of living close to Lake Ontario.
The last time Dad and I set sail together is really 3. It was a perfect weekend after I graduated from university. I came home and 4 Dad to go sailing. Out we set soon on the calm lake. Dad hadn't sailed for years, but everything 5 well with the tiller (舵柄) in his hands.
When we were in the middle of the lake, a 6 wind came all of a sudden. The boat was hit violently. Dad was always at his best in any 7, but at this moment he 8 .
"John! 9!" he shouted in a trembling voice, with the tiller still in his hands.
In my memory he could fix any 10. He was the one I always turned to for strength and security. Before I could respond, a wave of water got into the boat. I rushed to the tiller 11 it was too late. Another huge wall of water turned over the boat in a minute. We were thrown into the water, and Dad was struggling aimlessly. At that moment, I felt extremely 12 of him.
I swam to Dad 13 and assisted him in climbing onto the hull (船壳) of the boat. Upon sitting on the hull, Dad was a little embarrassed about his flash of 14. "It's all right, Dad. We are safe now," I comforted him.
That was the first time Dad had counted on me in a moment of emergency. More importantly, I found it was my turn to start 15 for my father.
