Buying a Heart

"Vân, Vân!"
A tense hand gripped my arm.

We were taking an evening walk in the neighborhood.
"Did you see that guy?" I nodded slightly.
"Whew!!! He just came out of nowhere!" Sr. Leslie Thu's grasp loosened slightly.

"Thu... you are going to bruise me purple while that guy that scared you is going to be 100 miles from here," I teased her.
"Oh... I am so sorry... how did you know he was there?... that was so scary! No wonder the sisters say you are a good person to take anywhere unfamiliar!"

Sr. Thu continued her story and my mind quietly went back to the time when I was a 12-year-old girl.

"Dad?!?" I exclaimed.
I had startled myself by suddenly coming upon the still figure.
"You didn't see me?" he asked, continuing to weed the flower bed.
Dad had an innate green thumb and the garden was full of exotic plants that others had thrown away.

"No!... no..." I stammered. I had just gotten back from an outing with a friend, my mind still on our conversation.
"Always be alert. Although it is your own house. This is the best kind of safety... especially now that you are a lady," he added gently.
A rose petal shimmered in the afternoon sun.

Dad was an army man.
My siblings and I weren't quite sure how to understand him.

He said Starbucks was a waste of money.
That was where we met our friends.

He drove his Toyota until it was considered an antique by the state of California and he was exempt from paying for the annual inspection.
We couldn't wait until we got our own SUVs.

Our house was plain, with no paintings or decor.
We admired our cousins' glass cabinets, full of extravagant knick-knacks.

We said Dad was a hard man.
We knew Dad had a huge heart.
We got the proof last summer.

Dad and Mom bought tickets to the Franciscan Charity Fundraiser Dinner.
As 300 others in the Sacramento area.
Father Hoàng, OFM, the organization's head, was looking for donors.

Persons willing to buy a heart.
For $3,000.
For orphaned children needing heart surgery in Vietnam.

My parents looked at each other.
"We have lost a heart," my dad whispered. My mom knew he was referring to one of my brothers whose life is less than mentionable.

We were ready to give him up as a hopeless cause.
Dad asked that we still invite him to all our family functions.
We acquiesced out of respect for Dad.

"Let us save a heart because we failed to save what was ours. Perhaps God will have mercy," he continued. My mom nodded.

The photo of Thúy Vi, age 8, is in a conspicuous corner of their bedroom dresser.
She received her surgery three days after my parents sent the money.
The other adornment to the room is our family photo.

My dad taught me to be alert and secure from danger with his words.
He showed us how to be frugal with his lifestyle.
He imprinted in our soul what it means to be a person.

One who forgives.
One who has faith.
One who has heart.

ps. Photo of Dad's front yard: Silver dollar tree in the foreground and 9 leaping hinds he fashioned from wire and ivy. He hasn't trimmed them yet so they look like rabbits. There was nine of us in the family. Emma and Xavier is looking on the one that represented their dad, Ocean.
ps2. Franciscan Charity
http://www.hoibacaiphanxico.org/us/about-us.htm

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