I was eleven years old, standing outside when I watched the house that I grew up in burn to the ground. A few minutes earlier, I was asleep in my nice, warm bed.
My grandmother's bedroom was just next to mine and my brother's. A fire had broken out there and awakened her first. While I stumbled (蹒跚) around in the smoke and darkness, my brother ran from room to room quickly, waking everyone in the house. The house, however, was over 50 years old and made of wood. Before we could do anything, the fire burned it out. Luckily, we all ran outside before the fire took hold of every room.
I stood there, shivering while the fire burned my books, clothes, and toys. I watched helplessly while my mom cried. I wondered what was going to happen to us now that we had lost all of our things.
As I looked around, though, I realized something for the first time: The things that matter aren't things. I saw my elder brother running to get help. I saw my grandmother and dad hugging together. I realized at that moment that we were all alive. Everything that was important survived (生存) the fire. Our lives would continue. We would survive without the things that were burning. We would all be around to love each other for many years to come. And that was all that mattered.
I still think of that fire in the night that helped me to become who I am today. It helped me to learn that the love we share is far more important than the things we have. Love others. Help everyone. Let the fire inside of you make this world a warmer place.
