Chapter 1 A firm handshake
I took my nieces to the playground, and as I was watching them I noticed this child. While other children were running around, sometimes hitting each other, sometimes pushing people without care or apology, this little girl carried herself with measure. When a child fell, she extended a hand smiling, and she apologized when she accidentally bumped into someone.
I watched her for longer than I should have. There was something in the way she straightened her shoulders after helping another child, the way she kept herself small, the way she evaded being seen that made me keep pause...I could not help but follow her with my eyes. Such children, angels on earth, are rare and I smile voluntarily. What a sweet child, I thought. But then there was a small ache in my heart. No child ever becomes that sensible without a story.
The ache was familiar. The way an old injury aches before rain, the way scars remain as a remainder. And before the thoughts even emerged into a coherent line, I heard two women talking behind me.
One said, "Oh, poor child. I heard her mother abandoned her and she is being raised by her aunt." The other added, "Yes, yes, and the aunt is not kind to her I heard. She abuses her, and neglegts her " she added.
She said more, but I stopped listening. It all made sense. That explains it, I thought. No child ever becomes this sensible without stories that have deprived them of the joys of being a child. And that thought, these lingering moments brought me to a very far memory....So far that I almost didn't recognize the path back.
FLASH BACK
My sister nagged me, saying, "I heard that neighboring aunt sells the candy for a cheaper price. Let's go see it." She has been saying this in my ear for awhile, but then, at the age of ten, I felt old to be excited about candies. But I still was, as it was not something casually allowed in our home. So after a long while of getting our pennies together, we ran to that family house a few blocks away from us.
On the way there, my sister's best friend met us and she ran away with her, forgetting that she has been pestering me for ages for us to go there, but she left dust behind telling me to not eat her portion. I chuckled at that, and started hopping to that shop, wondering how cheaper it would cost.
I stood before the small shop with an opened window and called, "Is there anyone here?" The window was way too up, blocking my sight, even though I was tall for a 10 year old, and as I was looking looking around, wondering if no one was here, someone opened the side door, getting my attention " oh finally" I thought
But I was faced with a small child. A boy with a full head of hair, much shorter than me. I was taken by surprise. Not that I knew what to expect, but...I nevertheless voiced "I am here to buy a candy, And you are?" He did not speak. Instead, he extended his hand to me and gave me a firm handshake and a smile.
A handshake..from a child. I almost laughed, except his grip was so serious, and his smile so sweet that laughing would have felt cruel. So I shook back. And I noticed that....his palm was not soft. It had the texture of someone who had already been told to work.
But more than that, the handshake truly caught be off guard, because children often do not get handshakes. So it felt like I was being acknowledged. And the smile printed on his small face was so dashing that I just stood there looking and thinking...."What a sweet child" forgetting that I was also a child. But it did not matter. I know good children when I see one. Especially because children are scary. Saying that from my experience of being bullied and my incapability to fit, I felt an expert in noticing good behaving children, and because there is not many of them, it felt like a breath of fresh air.
Coming back from these thoughts, I repeated the question. "Candy?" This time, he answered. "Yes, we sell candy. How many are you buying?" he asked and I answered quickly "Two please. I would like two." As I made the purchase and gave the old wrinkled money, I looked around for any sign of adults. It seemed he noticed, because he said, "My aunt is out to run some errands. I am watching the shop."
It was incredible. So I blurted, "At your age?" He seemed a little bit embarrassed. But he didn't look away. He straightened his shoulders, the same way that sensible girl at the playground would, years later, in a different city, in a different life and said: "I am not young. I am already five."
The emphasis on the five felt like a soldier giving his rank, like a man defending his right to stand guard. And I nodded along, strangely I believed that, and why not, Did he not just complete the purchase effortlessly, I thought? You never fault a man for his age, they say and so, I smiled and run back home with my candies. On the door I looked back one more time, seeing him still standing in the doorway. Not waving. Not smiling anymore. Making me halt for a few seconds..why does it look so lonely, I thought, and indeed it made sense, this house was empty of any life, any noise, no one was here but him.
I listened, but there was nothing. No voices from inside. No footsteps. No kettle whistling. Just the boy and the silence and the dust motes floating in the afternoon light. Families in this town often have many children, relatives stay together, guests always come and go...at least it was so in my house...so, why is this house so silent, I wondered. But it did not matter, I made a mental note to come here often and with that new determination, I ran home.
END OF FLASHBACK
I was taken back from the memories by the voice of my niece, asking when we were going to eat. Leaving me momentarily frozen in time.
For a moment....just a moment...I did not know where I was. But then the playground rushed back. The screaming children. The sensible girl....she was gone now, probably collected by someone who did not know how to love her properly. And I thought ......She will grow up. She will learn to shake hands like a soldier. And someone will look at her one day and feel this same ache and not know why. But I knew why. I had known it since I was ten years old, standing in a dusty shop, being greeted like a person by a child who had never been treated like one.
