نسیم بهاری از سوی سرزمین دانلود

دوستانی که مایل به نویسندگی در وبلاگ هستند یک نظر خصوصی برای من ارسال کنند تا رمز اکانتشون را براشون بفرستم.با تشکر

As the fifth of seven children, I went to the same public school as my three older sisters and brother. Every year, my mother went to the same pageant and had parent/child interviews with the same teachers. The only thing different was the child. And every child participated in an old school tradition – the annual plant sale held in early May, just in time for Mother's Day.

Third grade was the first time that I was allowed to take part in the plant sale. I wanted to surprise my mother, but I didn't have any money. I went to my oldest sister and shared the secret, and she gave me some money. When I arrived at the plant sale, I carefully made my selection. I agonized over that decision, inspecting each plant to ensure that I had indeed found the best geranium. Once I had smuggled it home, with the help of my sister, I hid it on the upstairs neighbor's porch. I was very afraid my mother would find it before Mother's Day, but my sister assured me that she wouldn't, and indeed she did not.

When Mother's Day arrived, I was bursting with pride when I gave her that geranium. I remember how bright her eyes were, and how delighted she was with my gift.

The year I was fifteen, my younger sister reached third grade. In early May she came to me full of wonder and secrecy and told me that there was going to be a plant sale at school, and she wanted to surprise our mother. Like my older sister did for me, I gave her some money and off she went. She arrived home full of nervous excitement, the geranium hidden in a paper bag under her sweater. "I looked at every plant," she explained, "and I know I got the best one!"

With a sweet sense of deju vu, I helped my little sister hide that geranium on the upstairs neighbor's porch, assuring her that our mother would not find it before Mother's Day. I was there when she gave my mother the geranium, and I watched them both bursting with pride and delight. It was like being in a dream I had already dreamed. My mother noticed me watching, and gave me a soft, secret smile. With a tug at my heart, I smiled back. I had been wondering how my mother could pretend to be surprised at this gift from her sixth child, but as I watched her eyes light up with delight as she was presented with that most precious gift, I knew she was not pretending.