What is Taken Away from Your Education?

Lessons we learned, from school, from our own, experiences in life, off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

Recently I’d made the speeches at the schools, as the speech ended, a parent led two children to before me.  “Professor, I was your student, do you still remember me?”  This was every instructor’s nightmare, I’d, worked really hard, to think back on all the students, and just, couldn’t, recall her name; but I’d still smiled and told her, “let me think!”, as she’d heard me say this, her smile did not fade, she’s not, disappointed one bit, but her second-grade daughter looked up at her innocently, “Mom, your teacher can’t remember you!”

I felt very awkward after hearing, before I could reply, she’d immediately told her child, “Do you know how many students the professor’s had?  How can she remember every one, but, so long as I remember her!”, then, she’d, started speaking of her middle school careers, that with the problems she’d, faced in life then, how I’d, given her the advices she’d needed, “because you’d, counseled me, teacher, so I will, never forget you, as I saw the flyer on the seminar, I was so excited to come, to thank you.” as she’d told me, I still, can’t quite, remember her, but, I’d felt, very touched by her words.

The following day, a student used the communication app to contact me, this particular student had been, hurt by a certain teacher, he’d come back to me to tell me about what happened, to seek out my counsel, it took me sometime, but I’d, accompanied him, helped him out; back then, I’d, encouraged him: you need to turn what happened to you, into your driving force, if there’s a chance, you must, help those who’d been hurt like you had.  Back then he’d told me, that he will, work hard, to become a teacher who can, help his students.  In his final year of high school, he wrote me that with his grades, there was, NO chance he will ever be a school teacher, so, he was, willing, to become, a serviceman, to fight to protect the country.

And now, many years afterwards, he’d, shared with me everything he’d weathered through in the armed services, and he’d, mentioned what happened to him again back in middle school, and stressed to me, that even though he wasn’t, highly ranked, he will use his past as a teacher, to NEVER make the mistakes his middle school instructor had made.

After I’d read, although I’d felt glad, but, I couldn’t help but feel: that the first woman told me, “so long as I remember you!”.  It symbolized, I don’t’ need your affirmations from your memories, but I will remember, that was, the demands that one made of, one’s own, characters, to never forget to be, thankful.  While the second student, couldn’t forget about the shame, but he’d not, selected, to take revenge, instead, he’d, turned his shame into something he could, learn from, to remind himself, to NEVER shame another like he’d been, shamed.  Think on his, how many people we will meet, how many things we can, encounter, in our, lifetimes!

Who remembered us, it isn’t, that important, what’s important is who we remembered?  Well, it’s, not that important either, the important being WHY we remember who or what we remember?  Those that happened, those whom we remembered, what were their, influenced on us?  From these two students, I saw the choices of attitude, how they’d, chosen to make themselves feel happy, how by choosing to forgive, it’d, given him peace, to use the past as a mirror to reflect, to have a life without regrets, what, will you, choose?

And so, this, is something worth pondering on, what, do you remember when you graduated?  I’m sure, that it’s not the course load, the books, the materials, or even what you’d made on your exams, it’s the experience of learning, of accumulating the knowledge, of the lessons that life teaches us that we will, carry with us from here on out.

Dreams, Stained, with Reality

Dreams, stained, with reality, they’d become, blemishes, tainted, damaged, goods now…

Dreams, stained, with reality, there’s, no way of, altering this fate, it’s just, not at all, possible.  Dreams, stained, with reality, see how dirty they’d, become, huh?  And, you can try and scrub-a-dub-dub all you want, but, there’s, simply, NO way you’ll EVER be able to, remove the stains!

Dreams, stained with reality, there’s NO way ‘round it, there’s, NO way you can escape, the fates, of how your dreams will all, shatter into, millions of, bits, and pieces.  Dreams will forever get stained with reality, no matter how you look at it, because, we all, reside, in this, real world, and, despite how much we all wish that we could, we simply, can’t, wake ourselves, up, and out, of this nightmare called: R-E-A-L-I-T-Y!!!

like, this???photo from online

Why is it Important We Figure Out Where the Virus Came From???

Oh, I know, so these, unjustified, untested “proofs” of statements can finally be, valid.

Why is it important that we figure out where the virus came from???  It’s already been, “released”, and it’s, causing a whole lot more damage that we can contain, and, isn’t it more important, that we quickly, develop a working treatment, so nobody else, suffered?

Why is it important, that we figure out where the virus came from???  It’s already been, “released” in the world, and, causing, major damages here, there’d been rumors, that it came out of a laboratory setting from before, but this latest showed, that it’s, naturally, forming, and, we’re, unsettled on, which one to believe, and as we try to decide which version of the truth is, actually true, many more are, contaminated by it.

So, should it NOT be important, to start developing a working cure for it, I mean, it’s not like, we can, put that, genie, BACK in the bottle, now that the bottle’s been, cracked, wide open, is it?  No.

So why are the leaders of this, “free world”, still trying to, figure OUT exactly, where this virus came from?  I can’t think of a reason, other than, because we ALL need, someone to BLAME for what’s currently, happening…

But as I’d stated before, this is still just, ONE woman’s opinions, on “stuff”…

The Epidemic Will Blow Over, and We Have to Be Practical in Restructuring of Everything

What we should be, taking from this outbreak of MERS-CoV as it, blows over, slowly…off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

As we’re, weathering through the current outbreak, and the war of man, when did our lives became the songs, “I’m Dream Walking”, and “As I Wake from Dreams”?

Today, the various industries are faced with the crises that came with the outbreaks, especially in the movie, the tourism, as well as the food industries, almost, completely, halted; no matter where we go, all that we see is, heartbreaks, and, the worries.  Surely, as the government officials started setting up the cases, to offer assistance to the various performance arts industries, but, the biospheres of these, of the unfair pays, is still, hidden in plain sight today.  Everybody in the industry knows it, that this is, bad, especially in the younger generation of, performers, surely, they’d, made a ton of progresses in their, creativity agencies, but, the returns of their shows, falters away from the creative presentations, this huge gap, unless you work in the industry, you can’t, even begin, to imagine it.

The dreams of the younger generations, that is, the new sort of production line that the future generation can find; but, in the process of filing for government assistance, they’re, the lesser, not only will the asking price get slashed, they’re also, forced to hire the famous performers that cost them more;  The three generations, surviving together, prospering together, to make, the more practical of the presentations; but what did the, younger generations gain at the very end?  As they’d, waited for their shares, it’s the older generations’ “leftovers” that they’re, accepting, and this hardworking generation of creative performers, are treated like, cheap laborers; the older generations tell them, to learn more, not asking much, so they will have their own chances later on; and, under this mindset, how can the younger generations have an equal ground for competition?

Comparing to internationally, Taiwan loved offering the contribution awards; it’s just, does the country consider, what sort of a push, do these, awards have toward the future of the performance arts industries?  Or, are these awards, past tense, with only, the imagined values assigned to them.  There are, a ton of musicians that I know, that as they were living, they’d not received, anything from the community, and after they’re, gone, they were, awarded, the “life-time achievement” awards, what they wanted, as nothing more than support, to keep creating, on Taiwan’s, behalf.

The prize money for the mother tongue music, is multiples of the pop music awards, but, does offering a higher prize guarantee, that the mother tongues will, get passed down?  Do these songs, actually stay on the charts?  And now, the cancellations of the shows are occurring, how will these, artists, survive?  The only option being, canceling the shows, and counting up the losses; how can the younger generations, keep on, losing the money they’re, supposed to make, when they’d, already, tapped into, the ticket sales that they don’t even, have.  Why not, raise up the prize money, and, spread it, among more categories of, winners instead.

Although Taiwan is small, but, don’t forget, how the people here are, hardworking, and how kindly we’re, treating others.  Like how we’re, currently coping with the world’s outbreak right now, wen can still, survive, by our own, self-restraints, and thank god, that the outbreaks will, come to an end eventually.  After the outbreaks had, ended, the impacts on economics is to be, imagined, if the government doesn’t discuss and come up with a good plan, on how to put on the more meaningful shows, and not gloating on how well it’s done it?  And the local regions don’t set up those, large-scale amphitheaters, that were only used, once or twice, but to, keep the dreams of the performers, the artists, the restaurant, the tourist industries, keep going…and focusing on whether or not they are all, able to, make comebacks?

Any of the countries has that competitive edge, and the abilities, to influence, the arms, the music, the humanities, are still, the best language used, in diplomacy; the ultimate goals of the arts, the final pursuits should be truth, kindness, and beauty, and, does this country still, deserve its, formal name of, “Formosa”, after this, strong wave of things, how to use the taxpayers’ hard earn dollars, Taiwan needs to, find the means of, being practical back again.

And so, this, is a criticism of how the current government is, squandering the money that the taxpayers paid, on bullshitting night market vouchers, travel vouchers, to give the “smaller sorts of blessings” back to the citizens, instead, the government should have a wider field of vision, and put that money (which WE paid into!!!), to better use, and yet, does this freaking government do this?  HECK no, because the current president is busying away, spending ALL of our, hard earned dollars, in giving these, god damn, USELESS “smaller blessings” back to its people.

This is what happens, in a government, when the officials, don’t have a farther, field of vision, and only see the trees, and, MISS out on that fire that’s, burning UP the F-O-R-E-S-T!

Why Had She, Married Me

I wonder, W-H-Y, is that, huh???  Translated…

MERS-CoV had, affected my moods.  But actually, it doesn’t matter where we all go on our family vacation, it’s dangerous all around.  Just like, for my dearly beloved wife and I, being married over twenty years, still very much in love, and this trip to Japan, we’d had, our equal shares of fights with each other.  We’d argued on the bigger matters of, should we wear those masks or not.  Which way to go, what to have for our suppers, just not that, it’s too pricey, and, as she’d gone into the shops, she’d always stated, “I’ll only be a minute!”

And, “how many articles of clothing we should bring for the kids?” this long debated over topic for instance.  My “he’s dressed too warm already, he’s turning eighteen soon”, and I still couldn’t win from, “Then, if he gets a fever and it’ll be your fault if we aren’t allowed on the flights tomorrow then!”  and I can, only use the advantage of how later on that day, as my wife shopped around, sweating all over, as if there are, nine suns shining inside the malls, asking my son in front of her, “Are you, cold?”, this sort of, a prickly language.  And my youngest was compliant, stated, “wow, you’re right dad, it’s, super, duper cold!”, and, his mother rolled her eyes, all the way around her head several times.

There are, still a ton of, repeated events, that occurred, outside of or within, our, awareness.  Like the heating packs.  I’d later discovered, that my child’s mother, took the ten packs that she went to Hokkaido with, when it wasn’t, that cold, packed it all back in, to the luggage to Kyoto again.  She’d, brought it along, like, a security blanket, whether it’s, actually, cold or not.

Just like, how we’d wanted something brand new on these trips, we’d wanted to, connected these streets and shops inside of, our memories, and finally, we’d, trekked through all the specialty stores of Kyoto in, three years, then, at four, we’d, bumped into a shop that’s, about to close for the day, to finally, sit ourselves down, for lunch.  As I sorted through the menu, ordered the foods, I feel my legs’ numbness, go all the way, into my brains.  My youngest son stated, “Mommy, you look like you’re, about, to cry from walking so long.’, a joke or sorts, and, it’d, accidentally, twisted open ALL the faucets available there in Kyoto.  His mother’s tears came overflowing outward.  And, my youngest and I stared at each other, felt like, it must’ve been, something that each other had done, to cause, all of this.

“Before the temple awhile ago, at Kiyomizu Buddhist Temple, I’d called out to you both, to take those masks off for the pictures,” she’d, sniffled and continued, “and, I’d called you two as our two sons…………”, then, she’d, finally, melted down.  Yeah, surely, this was, the very first trip we’d, taken, without, our, eldest son.

Just like, we needed a place to travel to, to help everybody get past something, through that long underpass shopping strip, to the train station in Osaka, we’d bumped into a kind girl, who’d, helped me wife load up on her bus pass.  As we’d found that the young woman was, also from Taiwan, my dearly beloved wife started, casting aside all of our, itineraries, and started that conversation with that young lady, and found she was here, for a work-vacation.  Then, she’d started, showing her cares and concerns of how the young woman’s mask wasn’t, thick enough, like it was, lined with, only, a thin piece of, gauze or something.  The young woman told her that she’d run all over the pharmacies, but, all the masks were, out.  Then, my dearly beloved wife suddenly, pulled out the medical-grade mask she’d prepared for this trip, a pack of FIVE!, placed it in the young woman’s hand.  After pushing it back repeatedly, this young woman finally, took it, this gift that’s, not bought or sold, along with the kindness, from a complete, stranger.

This made my goosebumps surfaced, and I’d, felt, mildly, proud of my wife too.  She’s, quite compassionate.  Just like, my losers friend told me, that’s why, she’d, married me.

And all of that led to your, final conclusion of, “that’s why she’d, married you!”, it’s because of how kind, how sympathetic, how empathetic your wife is in nature, that she’d, married you, and, you should be, blessed, to find a wife who’s, kindhearted like that too!

The House Next Door…

There’s, that house next door, we all knew it, a place, where, our widest fantasies lived, but we’d, never, dared ventured into…

The house next door, what’s happening over there?  There’s loud noises from it every single night, there must be, party animals living inside!  The house next door, we all wondered about that place, but, none of us, dared, ventured in, because, it’s, illegal, to trespass, isn’t it?a

a place like, this one???  Painting from online

The house next door, it holds, that sense of mysteriousness, that sense of, an unknown sort of wonder, fear even, it’s, this sort of a, taboo, a place we shouldn’t be in, but, we all, want to, go and see what’s, on the, other side, of this fence.

The house next door, something’s happened there, I think, I just saw a patrol car pull in its driveway late last night, and, this morn, everything’s, returned, to the way it was, like, nothing had, ever happened, just, another day, in this, white-picket fence neighborhood of ours, I suppose…

what’s on the other side of the fences???illustration fond online

The house next door, who lives there, no one!  It’d been, abandoned, since it was, repossessed by the banks.  We’d heard rumors, going ‘round, that someone was, murdered there, that, the spirits of the victims are now, haunting the place!!!

Leaving One Last Play Behind

An example of how to set up, one’s own, final assets, regarding the divisions of inheritances, and one’s own, final care too!  Translated…

In the past, we were, coworkers, AND rivals too.  I’d, hated how she’d, talked trash about me in her conversations, but I couldn’t, help but feel in awe at how swiftly she’d, handled the matters at work, or how she was able to, realize something way before the rest of us had.  I’ll admit, I’m, a bit jealous of her.  After I’d, left my former place of work, I’d heard, that she’d, switched to working in another company too, and had even, gotten promoted to a manager.  Thanks to the internet, it’d, connected us again, and we’d, started, talking sporadically, about the things that are of, no important, matters.

Not long ago, she’d asked me out for coffee, out of curiosity, I’d, agreed.  The day we met up, she’d, lost a ton of weight, and, her eyes were, a whole lot, softer too.  She’d told me she was now, retired, I’d, prodded, “Would your boss let you go?  Wasn’t he the least bit afraid, that nobody will, fill your shoes?”, she’d smiled and told me, “he had to, because, which business owner wanted, to keep a cancer patient on the payroll?”, I felt that shock inside.  Turned out, she’s been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the third stage.  She’d told her oncologist, that she won’t be going through the extensive treatment measures, only keeping her pain controlled, during this time period, she’d first shown gratitude toward her older brother and sister-in-law, to tell her only daughter that she loves her, that on the road of single parenthood, her daughter, was her one and only, biggest console; and lastly, she thought, of me, wanted to apologize to me, that from when we’d worked together, she’d always, talked trash because she’d, envied how perfect my family is, and how everybody in the office got along with me so well………..

I didn’t know what to say to her, and, all the encouragements, and words of console seemed, excess and unnecessary.  So I’d asked her, if she’d, set up her final affairs?  For instance, the most practical, transferring her assets, the properties and the cash too, I was so certain, that it was to dodge the inheritance taxes, she’d, totally have, already, transferred the money to her daughter’s accounts, but that was, not what, she’d done.  Other than giving partial of her assets to her daughter, she’d, donated some to charitable causes, and, saved some for herself, including the property she now, lives in.  I was so curious, as to why she’d, saved some for herself?  She’d told me she wasn’t, a stingy person, although she’s, dying, but how much longer will she be, around?  The doctor’s verdicts may not be, absolute, she’d hoped, that she could, walk her final mile in someplace familiar, her own, home, and, during this time, she would, need to, spend the money to care for her self, she’d, needed, to hire a nurse to take care of her, that she’d, needed, to take good care of herself in illness.  If she didn’t die, she’d not wanted to, rely on her daughter to help her live, although, the money her daughter has, were once, from her too, but she’d, transferred the money to her daughter’s name, and, it’s, no longer, owned by her.  She’d also told me, “I’d given my child so much, what’s a little inheritance tax on her part?”, it’d, made my heart shocked, such a different sort of parent, this was, the way, for a win-win.

As the shop was, about to close, we’d, asked the waiter to take a photo of us together, we’d said goodbye.  She’d told me, to not ask around about her then, she wouldn’t have any final rites, that tonight, was the last time we’ll, ever meet up.  She’d told me, “I want you, to remember me as right now!”

On the MRT, I’d, looked, at that photo of us, I’d, thought about what she’d said about her “saving a part of her own assets for herself”, I’d felt, that she was, a role model, for how all parents should, set up the inheritances to give to their young, she’d been, an, amazing competitor, whom I’d, learned, a whole lot from that’s for sure!

And so, this, was how well-thought-out this woman was, of planning her own final affairs, she’d, made sure that her daughter will be, taken care of, and, used the amount after she’d set aside for her own daughter’s sake, to donate to charity, and, saved another portion for herself for her own, final care, that way, she wouldn’t become a burden to her own young, and she’d, still, managed, to leave her daughter with something, as well as, help those in need too.

The Season of the Frost

As death, slowly, takes over, the living, translated…

The afternoon sun came in, from the southwest side, the light that weren’t, blocked out, by the house next door, slanted down, lazily, imprinted itself, onto the patio, reflecting the rhombus pattern of the screen door, her black cat, Charcoal lay, on that patch of sun that’s, on the ground, it seemed, that he was, unwilling, to leave that spot.

As she stared, at this frame, there came, the eyes of that elderly woman, the elderly face was, so thin, with the deepening of the wrinkles on her face, her skin, dark in complexion, very thin in its, layer, with one eye, slanted, and the eye that stared at people, it’d, looked, extremely, delicate, with the corner lifted upward.  Maybe, back when the elderly was a younger woman, she was, beautiful, it’s just, that the year drifted too far away from her now, and, she’s not related to her, and so, she can, only, make her own guesses on her.

what that, looked, like…photo found online

She’s, a caretaker, taking the shifts from the night previous.  The elderly woman is close to eighty years of age, not even forty kilograms in weight, quite weak in physique, and even so, she’d still, insisted on, taking herself to the bathrooms.  She’d, taken into considerations her stature, and wanted to allow the elderly to have what’s left of her own, dignity, she’d, allowed the elderly, to lean on her, and took her to the bathroom, and, as the night got deeper, she’d, made the trips, many more times.  The elderly always, sat on the toilet a long time, and, as she helped her back into bed, she could hear the elderly pant like a dog.  As the nurse saw, she’d, grilled her, to NOT help her go to the bathrooms again, that she could just, let the elderly go in her diapers.  Later she’d, taken care of the diapers’ worth of brownish, sticky material.  As the families learned of this, they’d told, that in these recent ten days, the woman lacked an appetite, and didn’t eat anything when they took her home, only had the liquid nutritional drinks, how can she expel so much waste.  As she heard, her heart went colder, and reminded the families in a round and about way, that they need to be, prepared.  What she couldn’t tell them was, please, take your mother home with you, so the high tech devices, don’t drag her life out for longer than it should’ve, lasted.

As the elderly woman was lying there, she’d, used her delicate eyes, asked, “Miss, can you please give me some medications, that I can take, and just, die.”  Then, “I’m going to find my dad now.” And from time to time, she’d, hung her head down low, held tight to her tiny achy frame, mumbled on, “I’m going to die”.

As the day broke, the families came by, the elderly started grilling them, “are you, leaving me here, to die?”, her children were about fifty or sixty years of age, looked honest enough, but without a clue, and, as they’d heard their mother’s questions, they’d, seemed, helpless, rebutted, “We sent you here to get better, how can we leave you here, to die?”  the nurse told the families to go outside, she’d watched the loved ones, nodded away like bobbleheads, they started, writing something down on a sheet of paper that the nurses handed them.

this, is what the end, might, look like…photo from online

At around noon, the medical staff, suddenly, gathered around in the room.  The families, as well as she, were, ushered outside.  In a panic, the elderly had, multiple tubes going in and out of her body: the trachea, the feeding tubes through the nose, connected to the stomach, the catheter, the drips, with some tranquilizer, the elderly lost consciousness, with the oxygen mask over her face, the assortments of drips on the poles, then, the entire bed, got wheeled off, into the I.C.U.

She received a day’s worth of nurse’s pays, dragged out her luggage, walked, on the golden sun rays of the season of the frost, as the golden sunshine was about, to get off the clock.

As she arrived home, there were the cats, and no humans around, her kids had all grown up and left home, her husband no longer alive.  She’d put a kettle on, gone to pick the two sticks of chamomiles out in her yard, on lemon grass, three leaves of mint, made it, into a cup of, lightly, sweetened, light green solution.  As she’d, found her calm again, she’d recalled, a patient she couldn’t, let go of as she was being trained as a caretaker, it was, also, an elderly of eighty or ninety years of age, she’d helped turned him over in the bed, and, as she’d touched his body, she’d found, that the man was, so stiffened up, that he’d, looked like a curled up shrimp, most of the patients she worked for, as she’d helped them flip over, would sigh, and yelp, but this elderly man, is a dead body, with just, one breath left inside of him, like a cookie, she’d turned him, left, and then, right, no response, there’s, no changes in the lines on his body, or posture, he’d, stuck on the hospital bed, and it’s, actually, abandonment, in the name, of terminal care, how long had it been, since someone, helped moved his muscles?  Otherwise, how could he be, so stiff?  And yet, the people around him, they’re sliding on their cell phones, eating their meals, and just, busying themselves, around, and about.

The sun had, retracted, to a corner on the lanai now, the rhombus shaped pattern now, gone, Charcoal hopped, into her lap.  She’d, patted that body of color, Charcoal started, purring at her.  The elderly with the corners of the eyes lifting upward, your wings of youth had already been, put up, stored away, inside, that long hallway of time, without all those, tubes to keep you alive, hmmmmmmmmm, it’s, hard to, say.————She took a small sip of the light scent, then asked Charcoal who’s in her lap, “the season of the frosts has arrived, do you know that?  And the days, go fast one by one, vanished, do you know, what a, good spot you were lying in awhile ago!”

And so, for this woman, in her line of work, she’d, seen it all, because she took care of the terminal patients, who are, on the verge of dying, and in taking care of these elderly, she’d, seen everything, from how the bodies are, no longer, capable of sustaining life on their own, of how the only thing that’s, keeping these bodies alive, are the machines, and tubes in the arms, connecting to the machines, and how the families refused, to let go of their elderly parents, and just, keep on, making them suffer even longer!

When You’d Become, the Sum of My Parts

When you’d become, the sum of my parts, I can’t, do without you, I’d become, totally, completely, hooked (woe would be me!!!).  When you’d become, the sum of my parts, we’d become, too intertwined, too, mingled together, like those balls of yarns that those kittens played with, without the supervisions of humans?  They end up, tangled up completely, unmanageable.

When you’d become, the sum of my parts, it would be, super, duper hard, for me, to live without you, I’d grown, to rely on you, for every single one of my needs, and yet, you don’t, give me any, and so, I shall, die…

what that, looked like…and it’s, still NOTHING good!  Photo from online

When you’d become, the sum of my parts, nothing’s, interchangeable, I gotta, have you in my life, or else, I will, die, I can’t even, go a second, without you on my mind, what am I, supposed to do, I think about you when I’m awake, and dream of you, when I sleep at night.

When you’d become, the sum of my parts, I’m destined, to get, SCREWED over, which is why, I’m now, working, too hard, to make SURE, that you don’t become, the sum of any part of who I turn out to be!

When you’d become, the sum of my parts, well, let’s see, how it’ll end, and I gotta feelin’: it ain’t, gonna end well, not for me one bit, and yet, I can’t, map out my brand new path, my path is, too entangled, with yours now………

Sir, I Want Some Baked Goods that Are, Imperfect

The acts of kindness, initiated by the owner of the bakery, and it warms everybody who knows the details of what’s going on, translated…

Yesterday, as I was at the bakery selecting my breads, suddenly, a boy of about ten ran into the shop in a hurry, started hollering to the owner, “Sir, give me some imperfectly baked breads!”, the owner of around sixty years of age squinted his eyes, smiled and replied, “okay!”, then, I saw the child used the clasps, picked up a few breads, the owner bagged the items for him, and only took one small coin from his hand, then, handed him the goods, and told him, to walk carefully, and, the owner smiled, as he saw the young boy off.

Those of us, customers who saw this scene, we’d, all looked at each other, and smiled, while the owner of the shop told, with a heavy note, that the boy’s name is, “Lucky”, he was, a prematurely born child, back then, his mother gave birth to him out of wedlock, and couldn’t tell who the father was, in the end, she had to, leave the family, abandoning her own son, and for many years, nobody’s, heard from her, for several years, the boy was, left to raised by his grandmother who’d, lost her husband.  She’d hoped that he would be, blessed, thus, she’d, named him, “Lucky”, but because she’s elderly, without abilities to work, she could, only make the amount from recycling the materials, they lived on, very, poor.  “Thankfully, although Lucky may be, developmentally delayed, but his physical growth was, normal, he’d, helped his grandmother out without being asked regularly.”

a batch like this???sold, at a, discounted price here!  Photo found online

The owner told, that since he learned of Lucky’s story, when he’d come to buy the breads, he’d, symbolically, accepted a coin from him, as payment.  But, one time, his grandmother took him in, pointed to the bread, then inquired to the owner, that did Lucky steal the breads?  If not, how come, all the money she’d, given to him were, still there?  The owner replied, “Lucky is a good kid, he did NOT steal anything, he’d bought the ‘breads not baked perfectly’, so that’s why, I gave it to him, at, a discounted price!”, as the grandmother heard, she’d, felt relieved, and continually, thanked the owner for his, kind heart.

As I’d heard the owner of the bakery told the story, a surge of warmth rushed up.  Think about it, Lucky is, exactly like his grandmother hoped he’d become, a kid blessed, otherwise, how would he have, met up with the kindhearted, bakery owner?

And so, this, is one of these tiny tales that warms up the heart of those who heard, read, and knew it, and, the owner of the bakery saw that this young man was in need, and, started giving him the help, because he knew, that he and his grandmother, are living on so little, and this story warmed up the hearts of others, it gives us hope, to see, that there are, still, smallest amounts of kindness, happening, all around us.