Allison and I work at the same place. People often ask how we can manage to work at the same office all day, and live together, and not go insane. A big reason is the people we work with.
Joan has been quite the world traveler, and has lived in Japan and England. While in Japan some 25 years ago or so, she adopted two great Japanese kids. They're in college now. When she was living in England a short time later, she bought a book called "The Boy and His Kitten" at a local market, for 50 pence. I know exactly how much it cost, because it's still got the price tag on the front cover. It's a Chinese story by a Chinese author, translated into English. Joan bought it because the kids in the book are Asian, and she thought it would be something her kids could relate to on a visual level. It's a little worn from being read over and over and over again, but the book's still in great shape, and invested with a lot of family memories.
So of course she gave it to us.
When she told me the story of how and why she bought it, I almost cried that she was giving it away. I thanked her as best I could, and sent her the picture at the top of this post the next day.
Joan -- you are extraordinarily thoughtful, and really blessed us with this out of the blue. Thanks again for reminding us what a great community of people we work with, and for the heartfelt gesture. We'll treasure the book and look forward to reading it to Lei XinXing in just over a week!
* * * * * *
Those of you who have children over the age of 5, think back with me for a moment to an earlier time. Your child learns to crawl, then to pull up, then to walk, then to pole vault over tall barriers. With each successive stage of development, fragile and valuable items move a little higher on the shelves. Whole areas of the house are cordoned off with metal gates and barbed wire. Bookcases and refrigerators are welded to the walls to prevent tipping. Bathroom doors are kept closed to prevent splashing, drinking, and eruptions of unspooled toiled paper. Household pets learn new hiding places. Electrical outlets are secured with childproof shields. Floors are kept free of dust balls, insects, and choking hazards.
Now fast forward again to the present day. Your children are older, and less prone to grabbing onto, say, a scalding hot oven. They no longer pop everything they can find into their mouths. Most days, they can navigate stairs without difficulty. They understand the difference between a pet and a toy. Over the course of several years, your house has devolved from a fortress of safety into a place where people can move freely from room to room without have to open a gate and close it behind them.
In short, your house is no longer toddler-proof, and hasn't been for some time. Because after all, who in their right mind, after shepherding their children to an age where such lengths are no longer required, would propose to reintroduce a toddler to their home on a permanent basis? A toddler, for example, who speaks no English and doesn't even understand the word "no"? Who has never had the chance to explore, and attempt to dismantle, any environment outside a relatively controlled orphanage?
See Matthew buying wall screws for the bookcases. See Allison dead bolting the door to the basement stairs. See the children suspending piles of their precious, not-to-be-touched tidbits from the ceiling with baling wire and twine. See Matthew barricading the upstairs landing to prevent 5-foot swan dives onto hardwood floors. See Allison, going full-on Martha Stewart on your house's ass. See the children locking away their art pencils, protractors, scissors, jewelry, costume makeup, and science experiments.
See us all working frantically in the two days remaining to us to do something about the friendly populations of vermin that have joined us indoors this summer -- fruit flies, mice and pantry moths, to name a few. See the gates go up and the shades come down. See the first aid kit stocked and restocked, the industrial-sized tub of cleansing wipes standing sentry on the kitchen counter, the cups with tight-fitting lids lined up in the cupboard. The bunker is almost ready.
The atmospheric pressure is dropping. The first few drops of rain are falling. Lightning flickers in the distance. The sea is murky, dark, and flecked with whitecaps.
The hurricane is coming.
No comments:
Post a Comment