Smile and the World Smiles with You

You’re walking down the street, absorbed in your tomorrows. Your eyes transfixed on the pavement before you. It’s a wonder the number of intersections you’ve passed without noticing, taking each step with a fate that you didn’t know you had.

Suddenly, your pupils are puppeteered to elevate. Then you see her. Or him. It doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a person you’re looking at. It’s more of a feeling. A walking feeling who, in this glorious moment, is simply divine. For this being is looking right through you. Its gaze never began and will not end. A gaze kept alive by the most beautiful of smiles. A smile from ear to ear. A smile that proves the existence of the soul, one burning ever so brightly.

In the moment that smile reaches you, it does so with the force of a siege engine. You instantly forget your plans, and your resentments no longer seem justified. Instead, you’re washed away by a tsunami of unconditional love. The same feeling you’ve been seeking in work, family and food. For just a minute you’re treading in liquid love, and everything is alright.

Looking back, you long to find that beautiful sidewalk angel again. For after your paths crossed that day, you made a point to keep your head up. To guard your mind against incessant waves of thought. To instead notice the blue skies above and to hear the white gull’s call and to feel your diaphragm expand by positioning your hands in a certain way. To one day meet again. And once in a great while, when you’re positively alone, you ask aloud how such a brief encounter could imprint so profoundly on one’s conscience.

At least once a day, Mr. Kwan Lee would leave a person feeling just that way. Although he lived a small-statured foreigner in a city that never sleeps, to others he was the giving tree that bore the very big apple in which they all resided.

Kwan’s infectious smile and crow-footed brown eyes made him a favourite among fellow immigrants. On his way to work, he would often walk through the morning markets. His reception there would invariably include hollers, waves and his pick at the local fruit stand. If he missed a button on his dress shirt, someone would surely tell him so. If his face harboured crumbs from the morning toast, the elderly woman he affectionately referred to as ‘Aunty’ would wipe them off dutifully. Then they would share in their regularly scheduled morning hug.

Yes, Kwan smiled, and the world smiled back. My guess is that his English barrier kept him from comfortably exchanging pleasantries – the language of the mind. As such, he kept everyone’s bucket filled with smiles and respectful bows – the language of the heart.

Kwan felt very grateful to share in all this kindness, especially on days in which he needed it the most. He lived on the 1st floor of a high-traffic condominium, where lobby conversations pierced his bedroom walls. His dwelling received little sunlight, so early each morning he cradled his beloved Aera Lee upon the well-lit balcony. This, he thought, maintained a healthy circadian rhythm. Kwan promised to be “best mom and dad.” That’s the way he related it to Aunty after she learned of his late wife.

On this particular morning, as Aera sleeps soundly in his arms, Kwan gives quiet thanks for the sunlight bathing her peaceful countenance. Thanks too for the heartbeat that warms her interior. A drum whose steady rhythm allows Aera to unwrap all the daily gifts that life continually offers her. With loving eyes Kwan thinks to himself, she picks what blooms. As Aera stirs awake, Kwan unfolds a beautiful smile to receive the one taking shape on her lips.

~

Kwan presses a handkerchief to his reddened neck. He checks for hemostasis as he walks away from the outdoor daycare, the playground disappearing behind him. Another difficult morning dropping Aera off. She clung so tightly… to his neck this time. Her screams for daddy are vicious, flying out her beet-red face with whiplash velocity. Kwan sighs deeply and adjusts his tie. He feels alright knowing that she’ll shriek with joy once they’re reunited at day’s end. She always does.

He centres his awareness on the present and can hear so many wonderful things. The sound of lovers laughing in the nearby park, the sound of dogs playing on the bright green field, and if he listens very hard, he can even hear what sounds like a fender bender. Not so wonderful. Although, it’s less than that. Like the sound of a bumper rebounding off a fire hydrant. No, even less than that. It’s like the sound of a tire rolling gently off a curb.

~

It’s the first house of the day and Kwan intends on making it a sale. He runs fully on commission and his English serves him best in the morning. Kwan rings the doorbell, steps back and adjusts his tie. He swallows. Footsteps soon approach and the latch unlocks. As the door creaks open, it is to Kwan’s great surprise that the gorgeous face of his beloved Aunty emerges from the narrow opening.

Aunty’s peering eyes meet his smiling ones and, sporting an adorable look of surprise, she swings the door open with tremendous force. Before Kwan can speak, he is bound in Aunty’s loving embrace. Kwan smiles and exhales simultaneously.

The next hour houses teatime, crumpets and an elegant signature confirming a projected start date for the painting of Aunty’s house.

“You know Kwan Lee,” she exclaims, “I really needed your smiling face today. In fact, I was thinking of you this morning.”

Kwan begins to blush. “Thank you, Aunty. I happy today I found your house.”

“Well, I’m happy too. You know, I…I…”

Before Kwan can take another sip, he watches as Aunty clutches her chest. He asks her what’s wrong, but his voice is muted by her coughing up her last bite of crumpet. They remain seated across from one another until they no longer are. For in the next instant, Aunty falls sideways off her chair. Kwan springs into action. He pushes against the table and dives to the floor, face-to-face with his beloved friend. Nothing but the forceful contraction of her lungs appears to move.

“Aunty!” cries Kwan, worried lines forming on his distressed face. “Aunty, listen! 23rd psalm, you remember you taught me? He leadeth me beside the still waters! When you tense, think still water clear in mind, remember? Like small lake among the pines! Stay with me, Aunty!”

Kwan remains prone and reaches for the phone in his back pocket. Before he can dial 911, his eyes lock onto the 12 missed calls from Aera’s daycare. Aera’s daycare. 12 missed calls. 12 attempts at reaching daddy. All in rapid succession.

“A…Aunty. I go,” Kwan stutters. He pauses, still laying prone.

For a moment, time stands still. Two faces pressed into the carpet. Crumbs scattered between them. The room is filled with the laboured breathing of froth-filled lungs. Aunty’s eyes are intense. She’s struggling to live yet still so full of life.

Kwan finds and squeezes her catatonic hand. “Aunty, it’s Aera. She need her daddy. I run there. I call ambulance on way. They come to your home. They know to come inside. Still water Aunty, calm mind! I love you!”

Aunty’s eyes seem to sparkle with approval. I have blessing, Kwan thinks to himself. He springs up and rushes to the door. With arms pumping and nostrils flaring, Kwan races down the busy street towards the daycare. His yellow tie flutters behind him like the flag of a navy ship.

As the playground comes into view, Kwan sees a large crowd gathered around a steaming car. The hood is warped. The left headlight is dangling just above the pavement. The window is cracked internally. Clear signs of a collision with something but – there’s nothing there. No cars. No fire hydrant. Was it a person?

“No,” Kwan wheezes. As he approaches the scene, he slows his run to a canter.

Closer.

Now a fast walk.

Closer.

He inches hesitantly towards the crowd. Between the onlookers, he sees blood streaked along the side of the vehicle.

The kindest man in town can’t take it anymore. Kwan Lee drops to his knees. Eyes cast downwards. Mind already set. His beloved daughter has been killed. The tears won’t fall. The clouds above are holding less water than his ducts, yet they are the first to cry. Small drops envelop the land. Some time passes, and rain turns to a bout of hail. The crowd begins to disperse. Someone asks if Mr. Lee is alright. Kwan doesn’t notice anything. He feels only a great rage stirring within. Anger at himself for ever coming to this country. For ever thinking he could be a good father. For ever thinking he’s deserving of love. For ever arguing with his wife. For ever -

“Daddy!” shrieks that familiar little voice. It penetrates his thoughts and dives into his core. Kwan lifts his head. Still on his knees, he watches as Aera’s petite legs carry her bouncing body towards him. She’s giggling as she passes the smoldering wreckage. Before her daddy has time to think, Aera’s arms are wrapped around him and her lips peck softly at his wounded neck.

“Did I do that, daddy? I’m sorry. I don’t like to see you go. Daddy, a deer hit a car today. But it’s okay. The deer is okay, daddy. It ran away into the bushes. What’s wrong, daddy?”

There’s a desert in Kwan’s throat. The tears begin to flow as the dam finally breaks.

“I love you, Aera Lee,” he chokes, “I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiles, lightly shakes his daughter and places a palm on the back of her head. He draws her in for a bigger hug.

Kwan begins to awaken within the dream, but not yet from it. Lucid enough to embrace his daughter with those same loving eyes. As they hold one another, Kwan’s relieved gaze catches something forming in the engine smoke.

He blinks.

It can’t be.

But it is.

A translucent apparition of Aunty is forming next to the fuming hood. Although hazy, her smiling face is undeniable. Kwan looks on with utter disbelief, pulling Aera even closer to his chest.

To Kwan, Aunty’s face is the very expression of content. She certainly knows where she is going and is happy to be headed there. It’s as if she has taken shape for his eyes alone. Only as a pit-stop, a way of saying thank you before the final departure.

Kwan doesn’t understand, but Aunty’s image nonetheless relaxes him. He smiles back at the ghost of love itself and gives a small, uncertain wave near Aera’s shoulder blades.

He feels his daughter naturally pull away.

“Okay, Daddy. It’s time for me to go now,” Aera’s soft, sweet smelling hair skims Kwan’s face. She looks into him with joyful eyes. “I love you so much and I will see you soon!”

With that, Kwan watches as his daughter skips towards the wreckage. Before he can yell out, Aera takes hold of Aunty’s hand.

She cheerfully twirls around. They both now face the stunned man.

He can’t speak.

Words do not form.

It takes all his power to watch the two standing there, smiling at him lovingly.

Then in the next eternity, Aunty and Aera both give lively waves and, without moving, sink back into the mist.

Before they disappear completely, Kwan remembers to smile and wave back, his hands trembling.

He no longer feels his sore knees.

Nor his anger.

Nor his relief.

Nor his disbelief.

Nor his confusion.

All he feels is what he felt last.

Happiness.

Happy because two angels had just smiled at him.

Cry, Kwon Lee thinks to himself, and you cry alone.

But smile, and the world smiles with you.