(一)
Tears clouded my eyes as I stood in our washing room, holding Brett’s jeans full of burn holes.
Tired and defeated, I 1 to the floor. The clothes were just one more thing Brett had 2 . He often got almost everything in the house out of 3 . Many windows in our house needed repair due to his breaking 4 to steal money when he chose to live on the street. Yet none of this could compare to the emotional 5 Brett had done to our once quiet home.
Brett came to live with us when he was 12 years old. During the next few years I had dealt with Brett as 6 as possible, but inside I was shouting. “I don’t want him in my house another day, Lord! I just can’t 7 him!” Having wiped my tears, I continued 8 him as before.
When Brett was nearly 18, he landed again in Juvenile Hall (少管所). After that, my husband and I had to send Brett to a boarding school for helping 9 teens.
At the 10 ceremony, each graduate held a white rose to give to the person who had 11 the most to him or her.
Brett spoke 12 to his parents and then spoke to me, “You did so much. You were always there, no matter 13 . My mom and dad, I was their kid. But you, 14 troubled enough by me, always 15 me such love. And I want you to know I love you for it.”
