One day I wandered into a small Indian shop in the mountainous area of the Sierras in Northern California. And soon I began a(n)  (1)  with the Native American woman who was the owner of the shop. My own Modoc Indian heritage (传承) and love of Indian jewelry encouraged me to tell her of the  (2)   I suffered when my mother's silver belt was stolen. My mother had  (3)   it almost every day of her life. It has  (4)   to me when she had passed through the arch (拱门) of life to the other  (5)  .

   I remember as a  (6)   girl putting my arms around my mother's  (7)   and feeling the warmth of her body through the silver belt. Having her belt gave me great   (8)  after her death.

     (9)   I talked with the Indian woman, I could  (10)  her sympathy. But when I  (11)  expressing my grief at having lost the belt, her   (12)   was not the one of sympathy I   (13)  . What she gave me was a new  (14)   and an insight into my mother.

   "Remember," she said, "the  (15)  gift you were given was things of the   (16)  . Don't ever cry over things that can't cry over you."

   My mother is not a belt. My mother is   (17)   in the woman who now stands in her   (18)   — me. My true heritage is the talents and strengths that she left to me  (19)   cry over things that can't cry over me. I cherish (珍爱) the courage and the love a woman  (20)  to me.