Role models

The day started out pretty rotten. Someone asked me questions that hit some sore spots. I'm still a bit sensitive to variations on the theme of "And what ARE you doing here, exactly?" Probably because I'm mostly being here, and the things I do don't have a shape most of the time, and I don't know how to say that to someone who values action and tangible results. 

Plus, some of my USA friends are hurting, and I miss them. Having several homes sucks sometimes. 

But then I met Noa. He's two years old, and has bigger faith than most. He walked up to the empty baby pool, took off his shoes, stepped barefoot into the bone-dry half-deflated plastic pool, and stood there with quiet expectation. 

Everyone jumped into action, quickly re-inflating the pool and filling it up. All the while, little Noa waited patiently, just plain knowing there would be water. And he was right. 

He's well-named. His name is written as "walk in hope." I wanna grow up to be just like him. 

Then there's a fourth-grade girl. Quiet and somewhat shy, she was hesitant to talk to me. Her mom said their house was in the nuclear zone, but was fully destroyed by two freak tsunamis. The house was between two rivers, and the tsunami came up both rivers and sandwiched the house from both sides. From the rivers. 

I had nothing to say. Neither did she. Until I started making her a twine doll. Suddenly she was intensely curious, and came right over to me, wanting to know how to make it.  Mom has the same twine at home. The temporary housing is small, and every entrance looks the same. 

"Well that won't do! You need to decide what kind of house you want yours to be, and decorate it." I finally had something to say. 

She nodded eagerly, and started telling her mom what she was planning. I sent a doll home with her, and asked her to show me some of the dolls she'll make. She flashed me a smile. 

You can't stop a nest-maker. Not even by destroying her house and vacating her entire hometown. Take that, tsunami. 

There were wild ones, giggly ones, and sweet ones, each with their own treasure. Wish you were here to meet them. They just won't fit on the page. 

My day is a whole lot better now. Thanks, kids. I needed you more than you know.