Purity

It has been almost a year since the COVID lockdown.  As vaccines are now available, school reopening has, once again, become a hot topic.  To keep everybody safe, authorities insist on mandatory mask-wearing.  While exhausted parents are eager to send their children back to school, many questioned: how can one expect children to keep their masks on all day?

Sebastian and Leo, the two- and four-year-old sons of our friends, Gerardo and Jolie, just started pre-school recently.  Not only do they manage to keep their masks on all day, compared to before, according to their parents, they have become much more disciplined and cooperative.  "Oh, they got the drill down!  They know exactly what to do: masks, hand sanitizers,  . . .  You name it.  Nowadays, before we go out, the moment you tell them it's time to put on a mask.  They come to present their little faces for you to put a mask on without a fuss.  It's easy."  As Gerardo puts it, the hardship of wearing a mask all day seems to be more of a projection by non-compliant adults of their own issues with the policy.

When Lena was very young, after we went for a swim, her parents let her go wash up with me.  In the shower, she pointed at me, "What is that brown thing on your body?  Did you get dirty?"  "It is a scar from a surgery."  I explained to her that I got sick and the doctors had to operate on me in a matter-of-fact manner.  

"Did it hurt?" Lena frowned.  "It did for a while, but it does not hurt anymore.  It was a long time ago.  I am fine now."  I gave her a nod of assurance and a pat on the head.  "Oh, ok.  That's good."  To Lena, all she cared about was that I was ok.  It was as simple as that.  We went on to wash ourselves and splash bubbles all over the shower as if nothing had happened.

Interestingly, many adults have a much harder time dealing with such matters.   

In college, I briefly went out with a young man.  One evening, on our way to dinner, he caught a glimpse of a tiny segment of my scar by the collar of my blouse.  His smile disappeared in a flash.  He lowered his head very slowly without saying a word.  I supposed the sight of my scar freaked him out so much that he could not talk to me for the rest of the evening.  Since he could not even make himself ask me about it, I was glad that he never asked me out again.

Having said that, I have had friends, who asked me about my illness, broke down, sobbing before I could finish telling them the story.  I had to turn around to comfort them and assure them that everything is okay.  While I appreciate people's curiosity and sympathy, I have learnt to be cautious and selective in revealing my past because I really do not like to set friends off crying like that.  Not everybody is like Lena.

Supposedly, we all started with a child's heart.  As we grow up, where has it gone?