Then there is that special form of sickness. The one that when people talk about it, their whole face and bodies change from the sheer traumatic memory of it. You know, when you were travelling and you ate something from a street vendor?
“We never get to see Lauren! Can we stop and see Lauren? I miss my friends!” exclaimed Lydia, Deana’s five-and-a-half-year-old daughter as they were walking past Lauren’s home with her four-year-old sister, Emilee. Deana’s heart was breaking. How could she explain to her five-year-old that although Lauren was likely just inside that house, she couldn’t go and see her because they were under quarantine for the coronavirus? She got down on one knee to get closer to them, and held their hands.
Most of us made it back to the boat, but one critical player did not show up until 11.30am Sunday morning. All of a sudden the weather wasn’t looking as rosy as we had been lead to believe it would be. The clouds were angry, about to spew rain, and the harbour decided it would respond to the conditions with excessive choppiness. But bugger it! It was time to go if we were going to make our Wednesday deadline!
She arrived and looked with trepidation over at the scooter, but there was no pug. That was unusual. The pug was always there in the same spot. She saw Mr Roy, a tenant from the same building, and asked him where the dog was. "Dog gone! Dog gone!" he said.
I was one of the last people waiting when an older couple walked in. Wizened is a word that comes to mind as my first impression. One of the University staffers brought them over to my table. They most certainly had absolutely no English. Awesome! My Japanese was going to get really good, really fast, I thought.
But it was when I glanced over to the mirror on the wall to my right, I saw where the real damage was. There was a huge, deep hole in my right elbow. “Hmmmmmmmmm, a bandaid is not going to fix that,” I thought.
I am very fond of one of my former clients, but not to the level I would like an intimate relationship with him. We went away to a number of conferences together without incident, until after one such conference, after one or two beverages, he made his move…
“It is very hot here Madam. Everything is hot here: man is hot; sand is hot; everybody’s hot!” Words of wisdom greeted some ladies entering the beach down a long, uncovered path in the beating sun, from the chubby, local shack worker with his long, receding hair pulled back, and huge cheeky grin.
“I thought Japan was supposed to be a developed country,” he said with a look of pure horror on his face. “I’m from a third world country and our conditions are better than this!” (Of course Spain is not a third world country, but Diego was prone to dramatization back then). We surveyed the situation as our translator gestured for us to come to the front counter. We then looked at each other and, in that moment, decided to roll the dice.
He had clearly been abandoned by his mother and was going to die if they left him there. So they christened him Lambo, took him home, and welcomed him to the family. I can’t imagine what it was about that tiny, cute, helpless baby lamb that reminded them of Sylvester Stallone’s revenge filled, murderous madman on a rampage… But who knows? Maybe it was a prophecy… ** Don't feel like reading? Listen to me read the story **
