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Thursday, March 25, 2010

thE mAgic wRitEr


Huh,,, Lately, getting tired with lots of assignments. As usual, I'm the one who is prefer finishing my task at the last minute. Tonight, I'm going to burn my midnight oil to do all of 10 tasks in the Student-Directed Learning Portfolio. Here, I would like to share the 8th task that I have done just now which is its instruction is :

Check out an issue of Reader's Digest and choose an interesting article of about 300-350 words. Print out the article and paste it. Then answer the question given...

After skimming the latest article in reader's digest, then i decide to choose this article with its title 'The Magic Writer' that really touch my heart. It's quite long but could you please read it for me? :)

Gary Cotter was a big, solid guy who had earned his living as an industrial spray painter. He loved old cars, Irish music, and telling stories to his friends after work at the Omega, a 24-hour diner. Most of all, Gary Cotter loved his kids, his grandkids, and Gail, his wife of 37 years.
He loved Christmas too. Every year, it was Gary who picked out the tree, hung the decorations, and strung cards around the family room of their home in Bay View, Wisconsin. Exuberant, affectionate, vivacious—to his family, Gary was larger than life.
In 2006, he was diagnosed with oral cancer. By Thanksgiving of 2007, he was dying. His family moved him from the hospital to receive hospice care at home. Yet, as if he could not bear to say goodbye to his loved ones at the time of year that meant so much, Gary hung on into the Christmas season.
It was Gail who swallowed her anguish on December 18 and gave her husband permission to leave them. She held Gary's hand and told him, "It's okay to go."
When Gary stopped breathing, Gail called her daughter, Michelle, who lived across town. "Dad's gone," she said. Michelle rushed to her mother's side. On the drive over, she turned on the radio and heard "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Every time she turned on the radio for the next week, she heard the song and was comforted. But Gail was overcome by her loss.
By April, Gail had moved in with Michelle and her husband and their daughters, ages three and one. And just like that, it was Christmastime again, the anniversary of Gary's death. The holiday had become joyless for Gail. She missed Gary's touch, his voice, the way he filled the room, the way he filled their lives.
Concerned about Gail's continuing grief, Michelle often planned outings with her mother. One evening, she suggested that they go shopping at Big Lots, a store where her father had enjoyed hunting for bargains. For Gary, a trip to Big Lots at Christmastime had been a treasure hunt, with surprises around every corner, all destined for those he loved most.
As mother and daughter pulled into the parking lot, Gail, conscious of Michelle's worry, tried to put on a cheerful expression. She knew that her granddaughters were eagerly awaiting the surprises that always turned up on Christmas Day. But without Gary, shopping at Big Lots was sad.
Inside the store, the women split up to search the shelves and tables for gifts for the girls. Gail wandered listlessly to the back of the store, where she saw a stack of Magic Writer tablets, popular doodle pads that kids can draw on and then clear by pulling a knob. Gail picked up one of the tablets to try and saw something written on it. She turned the screen sideways to read the markings. Suddenly, she froze.
In bold block letters, the message said "I love you Gail."
Gail called out to her daughter: "Shelly, come here, quick."
Michelle was a few aisles away, looking at dollhouse furniture. "What is it? Just tell me, Mom," she said. Gail called out again. This time, Michelle heard the urgency in her mother's voice. She ran over.
Gail was holding out the tablet in trembling hands. "Did you write this?" she asked her daughter. Michelle shook her head.
The handwriting didn't look like Gary's. Gail is a common enough name. Anyone passing through the store could have written the words for any reason and at any time—a teenager teasing his girlfriend, a husband writing an apology to his wife, a father showing affection for a young daughter. But Gail knew whom the message was for.
"Oh, my God," she said. "Dad left me a sign."
Gail bought the toy, telling the woman at the checkout counter not to erase the message. Then she and her daughter took it home. Gail put it in her bedroom, out of the kids' reach—one light touch and the message might vanish forever. A year later, it's still there: a promise for all Christmases to come.
Gail is a practical woman. Neither she nor her daughter is easily fooled by cheap mysticism or discounted grace. But Gail believes this—that at the loneliest moment of her life, a surprise and a treasure, a message of love, "was put there for me to find."
Every child knows that Christmas is a season of surprises. And every adult knows that hidden amid sorrows and joys, disappointments and losses, closeouts and odd lots of discounted items, the ultimate surprise is love.

OmA,,, miss my dearies so strong. Who???  
My target--> my parents and you, my twin ^_~
zEri is currently in home sick mood :(. Huu,,, there's no place like home...

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