The most important day

The most important day I remember in all my life is one on which my teacher,Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came yo me.Iam filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrast between the two lives which it connect.It was the third of March,1887, three months before was seven years old.On the afternoon of that eventful day,I stood on the porch, dumb,expectant.I guessed vaguely from my mother,s sign and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the steps.The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysucle that covered that cover the porch and fell on my upturned face.My finger lingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and Blossoms which adjust comfort to the Great sweet Southern spring. I did not know what does future ahead of Marvel or surprise for me. anger bitterness and head preyed upon me continually for weak and deep language had succeed this passionate struggle. have you ever been at sea in a Dense fog, when it seemed is it a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship , tense anxious, groped her way toward the Shore with plummet and sounding line and you waited with beating heart for something to happen ? I was like that ship before my education begin only I was without compass or sounding and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was light give me light the wordless cry of soul Angel light of love