The Garage 1 One day my mother told me about an accident I nearly had in my early childhood. We had
been shopping when I was only three years old, and when we came back she drove the
car into the garage, telling me to stay in my seat in the back of the car while she took the
shopping from the front seat. She did that and was just about to slam the door shut when
she saw that I had got out of the car. I was standing beside her with my hand holding on to
the inside edge of the door frame. ‘I very nearly squashed your fingers,’ she said. She held
up the thumb and first finger of her right hand, narrowly parted. There was a short silence. I
was thinking that perhaps I should apologise for being the kind of child who never did as she
was told, persistently putting herself in the way of danger.
2 Although I have no memory of that event, I do remember the garage. I thought it a fascinating
but slightly frightening place, with oil stains, thick and pungent, on the concrete floor which,
if looked at one way, could transform into rainbows, shiny and fleeting. It had dark red
doors and a window behind which a confused bird once became trapped, its wings flapping
incessantly. My father wrestled with the catch, which had been painted shut, while the bird
dived again and again into the glass, unable to comprehend that it would not yield. Finally,
the catch gave way and the bird flew out, swooping once over the flowerbed, then away
over the hedge. In my memory the garage was a cobwebby, dim place, filled with spades
and other gardening tools, an axe hanging on a high nail. One summer we set up a childish
museum in the garage, arranging our exhibits on the workbench. They included, among
other mismatched and valueless things, some old postage stamps, several dead insects
and some pieces of rock.
3 Our cat chose the garage as the place to give birth to her kittens. Awed and delighted, our
family visited her and her new family to worship at the side of the cardboard box which was
their temporary home. We watched the four squirming bodies as they burrowed into their
mother’s grey-striped fur. My mother instructed my sister and me not to touch the kittens,
not yet, and we nodded gravely. As soon as she had left the shrine and gone back to the
kitchen, however, I told my sister to keep watch at the garage door. I reasoned with her that
obviously there was no way I was going to leave those kittens untouched. No way at all.
The sheer joy of plunging my hands into the box and lifting up all four kittens in a mewing,
writhing mass and burying my face in their softness, their never-walked-on paws: how could
I pass up this opportunity?
4 The cat looked at me with eyes that were alert but which also seemed to me to be full of
forgiveness. She knew it wasn’t possible for me to follow my mother’s edict – there was no
way I could. She purred when I gently touched the kittens, stretching out an ecstatic paw to
touch me on the wrist.
5 That cat lived an astonishing twenty-one years. There are photographs in my parents’
house of me holding her when I was a self-conscious ten-year-old, with teeth too large and
numerous crowding my mouth, and photographs of me as an adult with the cat on my lap.
When I was living at the other side of the world, years after the birth of those kittens, my
sister, who was by then a veterinary surgeon, phoned me to say that the cat who, a lifetime
ago, gave birth to kittens in a cardboard box in our garage, had died of old age. She had
been sick and could not survive another operation. My sister and I clutched the ends of
our respective phones close to our ears, separated by mountains and countries and seas,
reluctant to end the call because we both knew what would happen next. We would be
transported back to that moment in childhood when we were separated by only the length of
the garage, as she stood, an anxious sentinel, keeping watch, her head turning between me
and the house, as I bent over the cardboard box and lifted the kittens out.

Acommunity park it was friday, and as she walked home from school, samara thought about what she would do that weekend. everyone would be at the fund-raiser for new sports equipment at the high school on saturday. as she was trying to remember if any good movies were coming out this weekend, she noticed a group of kids playing tag. samara thought they looked comical running around in circles on a small plot of land between two houses. “well, they certainly seem happy,” thought samara as the light turned and she crossed the street. on the opposite side of cherry street, samara saw mr. peters sitting on a bench. he was reading his newspaper as the heavy traffic of the town’s main thoroughfare whizzed by him. she wondered how he could concentrate. later, as she took the last turn onto her street, samara saw her neighbor planting her annual vegetable garden. every year, mrs. yang grew eggplant, cucumbers, and bok choy, because that’s all she had room for. “the garden looks good so far, mrs. yang,” samara called. “ you, dear,” mrs. yang said. “you know, if i had room, i would plant enough vegetables to feed the entire neighborhood! my mother had a garden that was one square acre when i was a little girl in korea.” as samara nodded and waved goodbye, she started thinking about what she had seen on her walk home that day. she realized that pine grove did not have any open public spaces where everyone could go to relax and enjoy nature. the only unused space was a vacated plot on cedar avenue that was completely overgrown. suddenly, samara had a great idea. she decided to spend her summer campaigning for a new community park. the only problem was that she had no idea where to start. that evening, she went to the library and learned about what she would need to do in order to get the idea in front of the town zoning board. it was all a little intimidating, but wanda, the reference librarian, samara break it down into manageable steps. when samara mentioned the cedar avenue plot, wanda’s eyes lit up. “that is a perfect spot,” wanda said. “it’s right in the middle of town, and better yet, the town owns it.” samara spent many afternoons over the next few weeks at the library with wanda and a few other librarians drawing up a detailed plan to present to town officials. samara and the librarians even planned and priced out irrigation necessary for the area that was designated as a garden. when the day of the zoning board meeting arrived, samara felt nervous, but wanda and the other librarians were there for moral support. samara thought she at least sounded confident as she presented her idea to the board. when she finished her presentation, she was ready to wait patiently for an answer; wanda told her that this kind of decision might take weeks, so samara was surprised when the board members asked her to stay while they deliberated. the president of the board explained that samara’s presentation had been the last order of business for the day, and he wanted his board to be able to agree on one thing before they left. after about 15 minutes, samara was informed that the community park had been approved. samara had been telling her neighbors and friends about the park from the moment she thought of it, and it seemed as though everyone wanted to be a part of making her vision a reality. as soon as her idea was approved, samara called a meeting for anyone interested in collaborating. at the meeting, residents voted on what would be included on the land: a playset for young children and one for older children, a swing set, several park benches, and a dog run. it was also decided that there would be a cooperative organic vegetable garden and an herb garden at the north end of the park. residents agreed that mrs. yang would manage the gardens. at wanda’s suggestion, samara asked a representative from a nearby horticultural society to come and advise the group on the design of the park, the best native shrubs to plant, and where to put them. samara also asked local businesses to sponsor the park by the square foot so that the community would be able to afford equipment and plants. surprised by the response, samara went to the bank to open an account where the surplus would be saved for next spring. in a few weeks’ time, the space had been cleared and residents were beginning to roll out sod and plant small vegetable plants and summer flowers. by midsummer, the community was able to enjoy the new, peaceful space. samara was happy to have been part of creating not only a beautiful space, but a common area where residents could come together. which conclusions can be drawn from the last paragraph of this story? select each correct answer. a. wanda is eager to begin gardening with samara and mrs. yang. b. samara's family proudly joins the park staff. c. samara feels a sense of accomplishment. d. samara will run a workshop for less-experienced gardeners. e. business owners in pine grove support its beautification.