| 完形填空。 | ||||
| A few weeks after my first wife, Georgia, was called to heaven, I was cooking dinner for my son and myself. For a 1 , I had decided on frozen peas. As I was cutting open the bag, it 2 from my hand and crashed to the floor. The peas, like marbles, 3 everywhere. I tried to use a broom, 4 with each swipe they just rolled across the kitchen． For the next week, every time I was in the 5 , I found a pea-in a corner, or behind a table leg. They kept 6 . Eight months later I pulled out the refrigerator to clean behind it, and 7 12 frozen peas hidden underneath． At the time I found those few remaining 8 , I was in a new relationship with a wonderful 9 I'd met in a support group. After we married, I was reminded 10 those peas under the refrigerator, and realized that my 11 had been like that bag of frozen peas. It had shattered(破碎). My wife had died; I was in a new city with a busy job, and with a son having trouble 13 his new surroundings and the 12 of his mother. I was a bag of spilled frozen peas; my life had come apart and scattered． When life gets you 14 , when everything you know comes apart, and when you think you'll never 15 , remember that it's just a bag of scattered frozen peas. The peas can be 16 , and life will move on. You'll find all the peas 17 , including the ones that are hardest to find. And when you've got them 18 you'll start to feel whole again． The life you know can break apart at any time. But you'll have to 19 , and how fast you collect your peas depends on you. Will you keep scattering them around with a broom, 20 will you pick them up one by one and put your life back together? | ||||
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