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A Shoulder to Cry On

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I heard someone call my name. My mom explained, “Lucy, this is An Na. She used to baby-sit you.” “Do you remember me? You were so little back then.”
The truth is I don’t remember her. She was a random middle aged lady, talking to me as if she had known me for my whole life, and for all I know, she probably had. I just don’t remember. She got into a squat to look at me face to face. I could see the hope and love in her face, and the familiarity she spotted in me that I just couldn’t spot in her. It was the look of a long lost friend. She smiled, she had a way with kids. Her smile made me feel warm and safe. It was gentle and caring.
It was all that a babysitter should be and for that reason, despite the fact I couldn’t recall her face, I ran over to her with my arms stretched out wide. She picked me up, spun me around, and embraced me. My chin rested on her shoulder and just then, I recalled the touch of that shoulder; a shoulder to cry on, a shoulder to burp on, a shoulder I remembered.




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LVO said...
Aug. 7, 2008 at 5:42 pm:
I could really visualize this scene. I think a lot of people can relate to this experience when you meet someone who has met you at a young age and you are asked "do you remember me?"
 
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