A good friend, this woman is, translated…
Every month, Fang would always give us a lift to Mannow Hospital to get our prescriptions filled; our lives didn’t cross, but since we were both retired, we’d gotten a lot of spare time, and, gotten, reconnected again.
I’d met her through a colleague, a decade ago, the government took back the dormitories, I was having a hard time, trying to find a suitable place I can live. By that time, Fang wanted to do something with her old house too, and, she’d, given me a ride there, to see the property, and although, I didn’t buy it from her, but, because of this, we’d become, the best of friends.
Fang looked after me a lot, what impressed me the most was, once I was at the track field, going for my run, I’d, left my bags by the podium, believed, that with my good eye sight, I can keep an eye on it, but, in a blink of an eye, my stuff were, taken.
The moment I found my bags missing, I’d, panicked. My cell phone, my I.D., my health insurance card, my ATM card, my house keys, the keys for my motorcycle, along with all the money I’d just, withdrawn from my account for the month, all gone. In a panic, I’d, walked to Fang’s place subconsciously, and started ringing her bells hurriedly, I saw Fang answering the door, and, I’d, broken down. She’d patiently, calmed me down, and, driven me to the subprecinct to report my things stolen, later on, my knapsack was found by some kind stranger, and, the only thing missing was the cash.
Fang was the exact opposite of me in temperament, I’m a rusher, she’s, more mild-tempered. She’d once told me, back then, her husband died of acute hepatitis, at first, she couldn’t get herself out of the sorrows too, and, she’d, damaged her own health because of it, later on, she’d realized, that she’d needed to, let go, in order, to carry on with her own life, and so, now, everything she’d encountered, she’d coped with it, using a mild manner.
That day, I’d, paid a visit to Fang’s house, there was, a Chinese-style painting on her living room walls, there were, the characters written on the strips of paper next to it, with the bamboo and wooden table and chairs, like I was, inside that poem I’d studied once. There were, the jasmines planted in her garden, looking at the small-framed Fang, in her beige Chinese-style dress, with her Chinese-style embroidery shoes, in the afternoon sun, watering the plants, there was, that unspoken sort of elegance about her, she’d stood out, like the white jasmines in the midst of the greens.
She’d entered into the house again, steeped up a kettle of tea, it was, a jasmine green tea, Fang said, that it was, made from the jasmine she’d planted, and, sundried that she’d made herself. Every first and fifteenth of the Chinese calendar month, she’d, plucked down the freshly grown jasmine, with the dews still on, and offered it to the shrine she had at home, and so, there’s that light aroma of the flower flowing through her living room constantly, just like how she is, gentle, kind, and cute, giving her guest that sense of warmth and comfort. At which time, I’d, wanted to sing that song about the jasmine flower.
I’m truly grateful to God, for helping me find friends who are willing to help me in life, she’d treated me so kindly, with that cute sort of a temperament, and became someone who’d lent me a helping hand when I’d needed her to, willing to take the time to show her cares and concerns toward me, giving me encouragements in life too.
And, unknowingly, came, that scented aroma from the jasmine flowers again.
So, this woman, IS like the jasmine flower, lightly scented, very gentle and mild, and, kind toward others, and, like the flowers, this woman had, used what she has, to make others feel better, and, she is, a great friend that anybody can ask for.