There have been many times in my life when I have felt very confident about myself and the outcomes of events, even when there was no reason why I should be.

For example, when I was in my internship (实习期) in my ex-company, I was fully confident that I would perform well and secure the internship — even though it was my first internship, first time working in an actual corporate role and I knew absolutely nothing about what I was going to get.

Another time was while I was still studying in university as a first year student. The people around me constantly discussed the monthly starting pay for graduates, which was around two grand. At that time I simply brushed that aside and was confident I would get a starting pay of at least three grand. The funny thing was that this was simply an arbitrary (任意的) number I picked out of the air which I felt I was comfortable with. There was absolutely no basis or research I did which made me point out that figure.

A more recent example would be when I left my job to pursue my passion. While I had a broad vision of what I wanted to do, I had not developed my plan to the level of specificity, and I was not worried about it at all either. I wasn’t worried about money, about how it would work out, or about the challenges I would face. All I knew was I was going to reach my end goal and I would do everything it took to reach that goal.

In all of the cases, there was totally nothing present that proved my self-confidence. Yet, in the end, everything turned out as well as I wanted, if not better. In my internship, I was one of the few interns to secure a preplacement job offer with my ex-company. For my starting pay, I received a figure which was higher than what I targeted. And for my personal development work, it is currently moving along well toward my vision. Honestly, the self-confidence I had was probably one of the reasons why I achieved those outcomes eventually.

   Next week, strangers with a truck will take away everything we own, except the clothes on our backs, the car we will drive, and as much stuff as we can pack into it. It's called moving. Some people do it often. For others, like me, it's a rare experience. In all my adult years, I've moved only three times.

My first husband and I moved into our first house with a bed, our clothes and a few gifts. That was a lifetime ago. Over the years, I filled that house with three children, a few dogs and enough stuff to reach the ceiling.

When the kids grew up, I lost my husband to cancer, and I began to learn about letting go. First, I let go of the idea of being in control. Life isn’t about being in charge of what happens; it's about being in charge of what we do with it. Next, I let go of putting off the things I care most about, like keeping in touch with the people that mean the most to me. I let go of the people whose lives are about anger or hatred, and tried instead to surround myself with those who shine with kindness. Finally, I let go of being alone---I remarried. I eventually moved to a new city with my new husband, and after that move, I promised I'd stop collecting meaningless things. But 12 years later, here I am, still learning about letting go.

Yesterday, while cleaning out a dresser, I found a box filled with old keepsakes. Nothing in that box may mean much to anyone, except me. They are treasures for me because of the memories they preserve. We finally decided to keep them, hold them close and never let them go. We’ll all move someday from this world to the next, but we won't need a truck to do it. We'll take nothing with us and leave behind a memory of the life we lived, the mistakes we made, and all the love and kindness we tried to show. That memory might not be a treasure, but if we're lucky, someone will keep it and hold it close and never let it go.

   I was at the post office early that morning, hoping to be in and out in a short while. Yet, I _____ myself standing in a queue that went all the way into the hallway. I had never seen so many people there on a weekday. It seemed someone might have made an announcement, _____ customers to carry as many packages as they could and bring them in when I needed to have my own package _____. The queue moved very slowly. My patience ran out and I got _____. The longer it took, the angrier I became. When I got to the counter finally, I finished my _____ quickly and briefly, and then walked past the queue that was then extending past the front door.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying not to be too pushy. Several people had to move _____ to make room for me to get to the _____.

I stepped out, complaining about the _____ conditions. Thinking I was going to be late for my dentist appointment, I headed into the parking lot.

A woman was coming across the parking lot in my direction. She was walking with determination, and each step sounded very heavy. I _____ that she looked as if she breathed fire. It stopped me in my tracks. I ______ myself and it wasn’t pretty. Had I looked like that? Her body language said that she was having a ______ day. My anger melted away. I wished I could wrap her in a hug but I was a ______. So I did what I could in a minute ______ she hurried past me — I smiled. In a second everything changed. She was astonished, then somewhat ______. Then her face softened and her shoulders ______. I saw her take a deep breath. Her pace slowed and she ______ back at me as we passed each other.

I continued to smile all the way to my ______. Wow, it’s amazing what a simple smile can do.

From then on, I became aware of people’s ______ and my own, the way we show our feelings. Now I use that ______ every day to make me ______ that when facing the world, I can try a smile.

   Of course, she wasn’t really my aunt and, out of fear, I never called her that to her face. I only referred to her as “My Aunt Fannie” because the name always made my father laugh quietly and gave my mother cause to look strictly at both of us — at me for being disrespectful to my elder and at my father for encouraging my bad behavior. I enjoyed both reactions so I looked for every opportunity to work the name into as many conversations as possible.

As a young woman, my mother had worked in the kitchen of a large Victorian farmhouse. During those years my mother helped Aunt Fannie make the best blueberry jam ever tasted by anyone in Glenfield. She was well-known for her jam and for never sharing the recipe (食谱) with others. Even though my mother knew the recipe by heart, as long as Aunt Fannie was alive, she never made the jam without Aunt Fannie in our kitchen to direct the process and kept the secret.

Each August, my mother would prepare me for Aunt Fannie’s visit. One year, after I had helped with the jam process Aunt Fannie gave me a coin and then made me promise that I would never spend it. “Hold onto this coin,” she said, “and someday you will be rich. I still have my very first coin, given to me by my grandmother.” So I kept the coin in a small box and waited to become rich.

I now have the blueberry jam recipe and the coin from Aunt Fannie. In people’s eyes Aunt Fannie’s success resulted from that secret recipe. But to me, it was just a common recipe. Neither has made me become a rich person, but 1 keep them as reminders (提醒人的事物) to hold onto the valuable things in life. Money can make you feel rich for a while, but it is the relationships and the memories of time spent with friends and family that truly leave you wealthy. And that is a fortune that anyone can build.