Appointment with Love by: S. I. Kishor

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In six minutes Lt. Blandford would meet the woman he thought he loved. He had corresponded with her for over a year, but he had never met her or seen her picture. Would he be surprised or disappointed?
Six minutes to six, said the clock over the information booth in New York’s Grand central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant lifted his sunburned face, and narrowed his eyes to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him. In six minutes he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past thirteen months, the woman he had never seen, yet those written words had sustained him unfailingly.
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one day in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of enemy planes.
In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before his battle, he had received her answer: “Of course you fear…all brave men do. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me”… He had remembered and it had renewed his strength.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six.
A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a flower, but it was not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, the girl was only about 18, and Hollis Meynell had told him she was 30. “What of it?” he had answered. “I’m 32.” He was 29.
His mind went back to that book he had read in the training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman’s writing. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man’s heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months she had faithfully replied. When his letters did not arrive, she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.
But she refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. She had explained: “If your feeling for me has any reality, what I look like won’t matter. Suppose I’m beautiful, I’d always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I’m plain (and you must admit that it is more likely), then I’d always fear that you were only writing because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don’t ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision.”
One minute to six… Then Lieutenant Blandford’s heart leapt.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive. He started toward her, forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
“Going my way, soldier?” she murmured.
He made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into a low-heeled shoe. But she wore a red rose on her rumpled coat.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
Blandford felt as if though he were being split into two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. He could see that her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her grey eyes had a warm twinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the worn copy of Human Bondage which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful…
He squared his shoulders, saluted, and held out the book toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt the bitterness of his disappointment.
“I’m Lieutenant John Blandford and you — you are Miss Meynell. I’m so glad you can meet me. May – may I take you to dinner?”
The woman’s face broadened in a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is all about, son,” she answered. “That young lady in the green suit, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she’s waiting for you in that restaurant across the street. She said that it was kind of a test.”
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Bad Turned Good – Must Read Story

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Bad turned into Good – Must read story
For home work I was required to make a drawing of a flight of stairs. I finished it, and just as I ws putting away the ink, a blot dropped right in the middle of the picture. It was too late to draw another. I felt so discouraged, I burst into tears.
My mother, hearing of the trouble said gently, “Don’t worry, the ink blot looks just like a black patch on the side of the terrier, all you have to do is draw a dog around it. Don’t get easily discouraged, honey. Often it only needs a little grit and imagination to turn the bad into good. Remember, few things are as hopeless as they seem at first.

I sketch a dog around the ink blot. The next day, my picture was voted “best” in class.“You see what a little imagination will do,” the teacher said. “The little fox terrier just completes a good drawing.

When  things go wrong, I always remember that patched terrier.  – Ma’am Dahl

Source: 1000 Stories You can use. Vol 2 by Frank Mihalic 1982.

The Story of ” Bowl of Noodles”

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A bowl of noodles from a stranger : An Inspirational story

That night, Sue quarreled with her mother, then stormed out of the house. While enroute, she remembered that she did not have any money in her pocket, she did not even have enough coins to make a phone call home.

At the same time, she went through a noodle shop, picking up sweet fragrance, she suddenly felt very hungry. She wished for a bowl of noodles, but she had no money!

The seller saw her standing wheat faltered before the counter and asked:

– Hey little girl, you want to eat a bowl?

– But … but I do not carry money … she shyly replied.

– Okay, I’ll treat you – the seller said – come in, I will cook you a bowl.

A few minutes later the owner brought her a steaming bowl of noodles. Ate some pieces, Sue cried.

– What is it? – He asked.

– Nothing. I am just touched by your kindness! – Sue said as she wiped her tears.

– Even a stranger on the street gives me a bowl of noodles, and my mother, after a quarrel, chased me out of the house. She is cruel!!

The seller sighed:

– Girl, why did you think so? Think again. I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you felt that way. Your mother had raised you since you were little, why were you not grateful and disobeyed your mom?

Sue was really surprised after hearing that.

“Why did I not think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel indebted, and my mother has raised me since I was little and I have never felt so, even a little.”

On the way home, Sue thought in her head what she would say to her mother when she arrives home: “Mom, I’m sorry. I know it is my fault, please forgive me … ”

Once up the steps, Sue saw her mother worried and tired of looking for her everywhere. Upon seeing Sue, her mother gently said: “Sue, come inside honey. You are probably very hungry? I cooked rice and prepared the meal already, come eat while it is still hot …”

Can not control any longer, Sue cried in her mom’s hands.

Post Script:

In life, we sometimes easy to appreciate the small actions of some people around us, but for the relatives, especially parents, we see their sacrifices as a matter of natural …

Parental love and concern are the most precious gifts we have been given since birth.

Parents do not expect us to pay back for nurturing us …… but have we ever appreciated or treasure the unconditional sacrifice of our parents?

Translated from a Vietnamese story