调查取证申请书英文阅读(5篇)

1

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Watching Me Go

The crayoned picture shows a first-grade boy with shoebox arms, stovepipe legs

and tears squirting like melon seeds. The carefully printed caption reads,

sad.

his first day of school, dissolving at his classroom door like a human bouillon cube.

The classroom jiggled with small faces, wet-combed hair, white Nikes and new

backpacks. Something furry scuttled around in a big wire cage. Garden flowers rested

on Mrs. Phillips's desk. Mrs. Phillips has halo status at our school. She is a kind,

soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind. But even she could not coax Brendan to

a seat. Most kids sat eagerly awaiting Dick and Jane and two plus two. Not my

Brendan. His eyes streamed, his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a

strawberry. I plucked him off and escaped.

It wasn't that Brendan didn't like school. He was the kid at the preschool

Christmas concert who knew everyone's part and who performed

operatic passion. Brendan just didn't like being apart from me. We'd had some good

times, he and I, in those preschool years. We played at the pool. We skated on quiet

morning ice. We sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighbourhood coffee parties.

Our time together wasn't exactly material for a picture book, but it was time together.

And time moves differently for a child. Now in Grade 1, Brendan was faced with five

hours of wondering what I was doing with my day. Brendan always came home for

lunch, the only one of his class not to eat at his desk. But once home, fed and hugged,

a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow--he wanted to go back to

school to play! So I walked him back, waited with him until he spotted someone he

knew, then left. He told me once that he watched me until he couldn't see me anymore,

so I always walked fast and never looked back. One day when I took Brendan back

after lunch, he spied a friend, kissed me goodbye, and scampered right off. I went,

feeling pleased for him, celebrating his new independence, his entry into the

first-grade social loop. And I felt pleased for myself, a sense of well-being and

accomplishment that I, too, had entered the mystic circle of parents whose children

separated easily.

Then--I don't know why--I glanced back. And there he was. The playground

buzzed all around him, kids everywhere, and he stood, his chin tucked close, his body

held small, his face intent but not sad, blowing me kisses. So brave, so unashamed, so

completely loving, Brendan was watching me go.

No book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick, raw glimpse into

my child's soul. My mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog

grown old and him saying,

mind I tore up the card every mother signs saying she'll let her child go when he's

ready. I looked

at my Brendan, his shirt tucked in, every button done up, his toes just turned in a

bit, and I thought,

With a smile I had to really dig for, I blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.

2.

Just One Wish

Fox River gave life to the country town of Colby Point, for the road and the river

ran alongside one another. Colby Point was really the name of a road that crept

between the hills and valleys of McHenry, Illinois. Homes were scattered here and

there -- mostly summer homes and retirement homes. At the very end of the road

there houses all faced one another. Three sisters -- all single, all seniors -- lived in one

of the homes. Across the way their widowed first cousin lived in a yellow house. Next

to her lived their brother, Bill, and his wife, Cleo.

Cleo had multiple sclerosis, so the pair had moved to Colby Point seeking a quiet,

relaxed life. Little did they know when they relocated to this serene area that they

would end up rearing their granddaughter, Margie. Before long, the once-quiet

neighborhood became active with the sounds of a child.

Margie always looked forward to the arrival of Christmas, and this year was no

different as winter began to settle like a warm blanket around Colby Point. Everyone

was in a flurry, for at the church Margie and her family attended, the congregation

was preparing to share their Christmas wishes with each other. Since Cleo couldn

’

t

make it to church, and Bill didn't like to leave her alone for too long, he was in the

habit of dropping Margie off at church early on Sunday mornings; the aunts would

bring her home.

As Margie sat in church that morning, she rehearsed in her mind over and over what

she would say. She wasn't afraid, for she knew what an important wish this was. The

service seemed to drag on and on. Finally the pastor uttered the words Margie had

been anticipating all morning,

“

This is a special time of year when everyone around

the world celebrates peace and goodwill toward our fellow man. This year, here at St.

John

’

s, we want to hear your Christmas wishes. We cannot fill everyone

’

s wish, but

we would like to try and fill a few. As I call your name, please come forward and tell

us about your Christmas wish.

”

One after another, the church members shared their wishes, large and small.

Margie was the last and the youngest to speak. As she looked out at the congregation,

she spoke confidently,

“

I would like for my grandma to have church. She cannot

walk, and she and my grandpa have to stay at home. They miss coming so much. So

that is what I wish for. And please don't tell them, for it needs to be a surprise.

”

Riding home with her aunts, Margie could tell they were speaking in low tones

about her wish. She hoped that they would keep her secret. As the next Sunday came

around, Margie was getting ready for church when Grandma asked,

“

Why are you so

fidgety

”

You haven't

’

sat still all morning.

”

“

I just know that something wonderful is going to happen today!

”

“

Of course it will,

”

said her grandma with a chuckle.

“

It

’

s almost Christmas,

you know.

”

Grandpa was getting on his coat when he happened to look out the front window.

He saw some cars coming down the dirt road one after another. Now at this time of

the year there wasn't too much traffic, so this was really amazing. Margie pushed her

grandma to the window so that she could see all the cars. Pretty soon the cars were

parked all up and down the road as far as a person could see.

Grandpa looked at Grandma, and they both looked at Margie. Grandpa asked,

“

Just what did you wish for, Margie?

”

“

I wished that you and Grandma could have church. And I just knew that it

would come true. Look! There

’

s the pastor, and everyone from church is coming up

the walk.

”

The congregation arrived with coffee and cookies and cups and gifts. They sang

Christmas carols and listed to the pastor speak on giving to others the gifts that God

gives. Later that night, Margie slipped out the back door and walked outside to look

up at the stars.

“

Thank you,

”

she whispered,

“

thank you for giving me my wish.

”

That was just one of the many wishes granted for Margie as she grew up. Her

childhood overflowed with the love of her grandparents, four great aunts and many

wise, caring neighbors. Margie was truly a blessed little girl.

I should know -- I was that little girl.

3. The Rich Family

I'll never forget Easter 1946. I was fourteen, my little sister, Ocy, was twelve and

my older sister, Darlene, was sixteen. We lived at home with our mother, and the four

of

us

knew

what

it

was

to

do

without.

My

dad

had

died

five

years

before,

leaving

Mom with no money and seven school-aged kids to raise.

By 1946, my older sisters were married and my brothers had left home. A month

before Easter, the pastor of our church announced that a special holiday offering

would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give

sacrificially.

When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy fifty

pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save twenty

dollars of our grocery money for the offering. Then we thought that if we kept our

electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save

money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house- and yard-cleaning

jobs as possible, and both of us baby- sat for everyone we could. For fifteen cents we

could buy enough cotton loops to make three potholders to sell for a dollar. We made

twenty dollars on potholders. That month was one of the best of our lives.

Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd

sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the

money the church would give them. We had about eighty people in church, so we

figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be

twenty times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to

save for the sacrificial offering.

The night before Easter, we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that

we wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; we had seventy dollars for the sacrificial

offering. We could hardly wait to get to church! On Sunday morning, rain was

pouring. We didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home,

but it didn't seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill

the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet.

But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about our old

dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt rich.