Coming home from school that dark winter day so long ago, I was filled with excitement of having the weekend off．But I was 1 into stillness by what I saw．Mother, seated at the far end of the sofa, 2, with the second-hand green typewriter on the table．She told me that she couldn’t type fast and then she was out of work．My shock and embarrassment(尴尬)at finding mother in tears was a perfect proof of how 3 I understood the pressure on her．Sitting beside her on the sofa, I began very 4 to understand．“I guess we all have to 5 something,” Mother said quietly．I could 6 her pain and tension(紧张)of 7 the strong feelings that were interrupted by my arrival．Suddenly, something inside me 8．I reached out and put my arms around her．She broke then．She put her face 9 my shoulder and sobbed．I held her 10 and didn’t try to talk．I knew I was doing what I should, what I could 11 it was enough．At that moment, feeling mother’s 12 with feelings, I understood for the first time her being so easy to 13．She was still my mother, 14 she was something 15：a person like me, capable of fear and 16 and failure．I could feel her pain as she must have felt mine on a thousand occasions(场合)when I sought 17 in her arms．
A week later, Mother took a job selling dry goods at half the salary the radio station 18．“It’s a job I can do, though, ” she said simply．But the evening practice on the old green typewriter continued．I had a very 19 feeling now when I passed her door at night and heard her tapping 20 across the paper．I knew there was something more going on there than a woman learning to type．
