I was 12 years old when Mom and Dad decided to knock our house and build a new one. There would be one big house in front for our family and 3 tiny flat behind for renting. Our house expected to have 2 floors with 3 bedrooms. I was excited, dreaming about my own room. Since I remembered anything, I either slept in the same bed with parents or shared one room with my brother. This was the chance I really own a space.
Among all constructers and builders, parents hired one carpenter, to take in charge of all the doors and windows. He was in his 40s and was one of our relatives. Everyday, we would drive a scooter from the nearby village to our city for work. He did not talk much. Now trying to recall this piece of memory, I can only picture him sitting on his haunches, curving his back and leaning toward a piece of wood to examine its whole deal. His head turn slightly to one side to let the sunlight shine into the wood and when he found the right angle, his eyes would glue into it until he had what he looked for.
One day, he noticed one of my barbie dolls and asked if I could be so kind to give it to him as a present. “My girl would like it”, he said. I don’t remember now what did I response, but it must be somewhere between “No” and “I’ll see”. Because later that day, out of nowhere, when I already forgot about his request, he shared me a random advice, “Things that are to give for others will never be lost”. I agreed with him but I could not bring myself to connect the two events. That was plausible, everything eventually will be lost, damaged or decayed but whatever we give away will stay forever in our memory.
If that day I gave my barbie doll away, it will always maintain the same status, ageless. My answers will always be “Oh, that one, I gave it to this carpenter”. Even 10 years later, the girl might throw it away or it got ugly and outdated, I would never know. I will hold on to the believe that I did some good deed and the moment I last saw it will be frozen, storage it with a good memory.
I guess the carpenter must like it a lot and he was clueless of how to convince a greedy little girl to do some good act. What was in his mind when he did so? Oh, my girl would like it. I guess in his village, this old barbie doll was such a treasure. At that age, I barely met any man who would praise a barbie doll, let alone trying to find a way to get it for his little daughter. He would think, oh, today when I came home with a barbie doll and gave it to my girl, she would jump for joy. My girl would play with it the whole day and would feel so proud about his dad. She would show that old piece of toy around the neighbour and confidently invite other kids to the house to play with it. Would it be nice?
One in a while, I still thought about those days: his sturdy sitting position, his fixed eyes and his guilty face when he tried to win over my heart with his kindness advice. Those pictures shuffle in me sometimes, whenever I want to keep or give anything. It was such a boring piece of memory in my dramaless life.