My Dearest Child

How this man became who he is, caring for those who are in need, all because of what he’d failed to do when he was a young child, translated…

On the afternoon of the cold front, the heavens were, frozen to shades of blue and green; He’d frowned, with a stiffened face, without showing any light.

I’d moved along swiftly out of the MRT station, rushed toward that café my friend and I were, scheduled to meet, seeing how I was about to arrive late. In front of the super convenience shop, there was, a retarded child, with a box of homemade cookies, with a ribbon tied outside the box, he’d not hollered out at the passersby, just stood there, perfectly still.

like this???  Image from online…

 

Because I was in a hurry, I couldn’t, stop, and I’d only, looked toward that child a couple of times.

Almost two hours had, passed, my meeting was, finished, I’d, walked back where I came, toward the MRT station, and, I saw this child still, standing there, and the cookies in his hand, hadn’t, been sold at all. And so, I’d gone over to ask him, how much he was selling a bag for? He’d answered me. I’d asked him, wasn’t there any adults with him? He’d, lowered his eyes, started frowning, without, another word.

As I’d returned back to my office, I’d told this to my coworker, and I got so angered at the adult that’s made him do this, how can the adults use the compassion card with this kid, to cheat the rest of us? My coworker replied, that perhaps, it was, to train the child, to face the world? I’d become, silenced, but, I couldn’t, waive that look of unsettlement or doubt from that kid’s face, no matter how I’d, tried to.

I’d found, that in the fragmented pieces of my memories, there were, several of faces, similar to this child’s.

The Little Boy & His Crazy Mom

In my childhood home in the army retirement villages, at the last dorm opposite from where we lived, there was, a family of three; the young boy was slightly younger than I, I no longer recalled his name, but, I’d recalled, that his mother was, crazy. That everybody in the neighborhood discussed it, that the woman missed home so much, and it’d, become, an illness, her missing home, she’d, gone crazy.illustration from the papers online…

Every morning, that little boy’s dad went to work, and his crazy mom would, head out; there were, a ton of crazy kids who’d, tagged along behind the crazy mom, and, called her a ton of bad names; the crazy mom got mad, stared back angrily at the children, and, the leader of the children picked up a rock, and threw it at her, the rest of the kids followed suit. That little boy, to protect his mom, stood in front of her, and, cried and begged everybody to stop……………the crazy mom started running instinctively, the little boy wailed even louder, ran and hollered out behind her, “Mom, let’s go home! Mom, let’s, go home………”

One day, the children rushed back to the village, and fought to tell their parents, that the crazy lady is almost dead, that the crazy lady is almost dead, she was, bleeding all over her body. I’d, immediately, run with the rest of the children, to the back, to the public toilets, the crazy mom sat on the floor, covered in blood, but that wasn’t all, she’d, smeared the walls with her blood. The young boy squatted by his crazy mom, cried and called out, “Please save my mother, someone, save my mother!”

Finally, the adults heard and came. After a few moms exchanged words of whispers, they’d, shoved all the kids out, and I’d heard the loudest of all moms, Mrs. Huang called, “Her period’s here!”, and afterward, I’d gone home, asked mom, what sort of a monster was menstrual cycle? That, it’d, bitten up the crazy mom, made her bleed, to the point that she was, bleeding to death! My mother threw a chestnut at my head, and, I’d, started, seeing the golden birds all around my head, flying!

There was a crazy mom at home, naturally, the little boy was, outcasted by the rest of the children, like they would get, infected with his mother’s craziness or something. Sometimes, I would see him, standing outside his home, or underneath that water tower, watching the rest of us play robbers and police, with that longing to join, several times, I’d wanted, to pull him into our games, but the older boy wouldn’t allow for it, and I didn’t have the guts to stand up and fight.

Not long thereafter, they’d, moved away, and, there wasn’t, any rants about the crazy mom anymore.

The Colorful Clouds, They’d, Smiled Down on Me

It was third grade in the elementary years, there was, a very special female classmate, her eyes were, slanted, and can only smile dumbfoundedly, she’d, walked around, crippled too; everybody made fun of her being stupid, but, she has, a very beautiful name, Colorful Clouds. Every time the bell rang for the break, the rest of us ran outside to play ball, or to kick the cans, and she’d always, sat, quietly, in class, all alone.

I’d not heard her spoken in completely sentences, only when she cried, there would be, what sounded like foreign language that came out of her, but, nobody understood. One day, the instructor said, that we’d all done quite well on our term exams, but, because Colorful Clouds made a grade of zero, it’d, pulled down the class average, and, we couldn’t, beat the rest of the classes.

The next time the exams rolled around, I’d finished, and found Colorful Clouds was, staring at her blank test, with her saliva that drooled on top. I’d, found the courage from god knows where, grabbed her test, and, wrote down the answers to a lot of the problems, then, threw it back at her. Then, I’d found, that Colorful Clouds, she’d, smiled at me, that was, a sort of a gratuitous kind of smile, not those from random. Several days later, as the tests were graded and passed back, the rest of my class were, so very surprised, at how high Colorful Cloud’s grade was, and I’d, felt, very proud of myself.

There were many memories from childhood, some of which, stored away, inside the drawers, and, I’d only, needed to, open up those drawers, and see them; but some were, buried, inside that dungeon, without any light, that I’d, stayed away from my whole life.

Once, I’d gone on Yuan-Na Shih’s radio show, and requested “My Dear Child” by Julie Sue, we were almost finished, when Yuan-Na asked me, why I’d, requested the song? I’d stumped a bit, the suddenly, that little face, that’s, locked away, in the dungeons my mind, that small face that’s been, dismissed for over decades’ time, that hollering, crying so loudly, seemingly lonely, little boy, came back out, of that darkened space………and, I’d only, spoken a few words, and, felt out of air, my thoughts became, tangled up inside.

That day, I’d walked out of the recording studio, and realized, that over these decades that’s, passed me by, I’d, felt bad for that young boy, just because I was way too weak, couldn’t, stand up for him, to stop the rest of the crowd from throwing the rocks at his mom, not daring to invite him along with us on our swims or fishing trips. Or perhaps, this subconscious sort of repentance, was what drove me to finish the exams for Colorful Clouds, and, it’d, made me feel really close, to those families with children with special needs, or those kids from bad backgrounds, wanting to do something for them.

On some day of some year, in Ximenting in Taipei, or, at the turn of the corner of Freedom Road in Taichung, maybe, I’d, brushed shoulders with that little boy from back when; or maybe, I’d, knocked that bread he’d bought for his family; and, although I can’t go back, but, I’d still wanted to, genuinely ask how he was, to give him a warm hug, then, called out to him, “I’m really sorry!”

So, what this man had done to this point, was to repent for what he failed to do for that little boy’s mom from his childhood years, and, these sorts of things, they will stay with you, because, you could’ve done something, to make their lives easier, but you didn’t, because you were, too scared, to stand up for what you KNOW was right, and, ever since, you’d done, all you could, to help someone else out, and, it’s all, to make up for that very FIRST wrong you’d ever done in your lives.