Zoe

Zoe

Here is a story that just may warm your heart. It is about a child that I will call Zoe.

Part One: Zoe, the toddler

The very first time I remember seeing Zoe was when he was just a toddler. We had just moved into a new subdivision, in a small town in southern Ontario, where there were many young families. I had not really had much of a chance to meet any of the neighbours in the area yet.

One of the first projects that we had undertaken, was to have a cedar fence built around the back yard, which was newly sodded, but basically not yet landscaped.

One early spring morning, as I was kneeling on the ground in the back yard, planting some small trees and shrubs, in a sunny, back corner of the house behind the garage, I suddenly noticed a very small, Oriental child, with large, dark brown eyes and straight, jet-black hair, peering at me from between the new cedar fence boards. He was about ten feet away from where I was busy planting.

As I stood up to take a closer look at him, he waited there, stared at me for a moment, then he burst into laughter and ran through the back doorway of the house next door.

Until that point in time, I had not been aware that anyone had even moved into that house, so to see a child standing there, took me totally by surprise. I could not help but laugh too.

Children's laughter is quite contagious. I think that I fell in love with him at that moment.

A few moments later, Zoe's father, a middle-aged white male with medium coloured, brown hair and a distinct receding hairline, peered over the top of the fence and greeted me in a friendly manner. As he took off his glasses, he introduced himself as my new neighbour. He told me that he and his family had just moved in and that he had heard his son laughing and wondered why he was laughing.

The father certainly did not look like Zoe. Nor did he have Zoe's gift of laughter, although he was pleasant enough to talk to. In fact, after I got to know him, I found out that he loved to talk and realized that he would talk on and on, about anything and everything, every time he had a chance to chat.

It was quite a while before I actually got to meet Zoe's mother, a young Oriental woman who could not speak more than a few words of English. She was quite a pretty woman and very gracious in her mannerisms.

Our actual conversations were very limited for a long time because of the language barrier. Generally her husband would speak on her behalf or interpret for her.

Over a period of time, we all became quite good friends and they both seemed to enjoy the fact that I took an interest in Zoe. He was just a wonderful little fellow who was curious about everything. It was as if his eyes would sparkle in the light. When he understood something, he just seemed to beam with a joy that radiated from within.

As time went on, I made a point of talking with him and explaining things to him, as best I could.

It was not long before he was 'allowed' to come and 'help' me when I was working in the back yard. And help me, he did. Everything that I would do, he would try to do too, in his own way. If

I planted a flower he would pull it out, take a close took at it and re-plant it in his own way. He would try to plant sticks and rocks, or even some of his toys too.

He seemed to be such a happy little boy, that it was a pleasure to have him around, regardless of what I was doing at the time. We spent a lot of time together and many times just played and rolicked in laughter together.