NAP- Neighborhood Alliance of Pawtucket

With this article, I wish you a Sandpiper. 

The Sandpiper
by Robert
Peterson

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near
where I live.

I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
begins to close in on me.  She was building a sand castle
or something and
looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she
said.  I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother
with a small
child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I
asked, not really caring.  "Oh, I don't know, I
just like the feel of sand."


That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.  A sandpiper
glided
by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"


"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The
bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself,
hello
pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed
completely out
of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Robert,"
I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy ... I'm six."


"Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said.

In
spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.  Her musical giggle
followed
me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. " ... we'll have another happy
day."

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA
meetings,
and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my
hands out
of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering
up my
coat.

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The
breeze was chilly but
I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I
needed.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. " ... do you want to play?"


"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.


"I don't know. You say."

"How about charades?" I asked
sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know
what that is."

"Then let's just walk."

Looking at her, I noticed
the delicate fairness of her face.  "Where do you
live?" I asked.


"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.


Strange, I thought, in winter.

"Where do you go to school?"


"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation"

She
chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
on
other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy
day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three
weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in
no mood
to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and
felt like
demanding she keep her child at home.

"Look, if you don't mind," I said
crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd
rather be alone today." She seemed
unusually pale and out of breath.

"Why?" she asked.

I turned to
her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God,
why was I
saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "... then this is
a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "... and yesterday and the day before and --
oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I
was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of
course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I
strode
off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't
there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went
up to
the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking
young
woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said,
"I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and
wondered where she
was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm
afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept
my
apologies."

"Not at all! she's a delightful child." I said,
suddenly realizing that I
meant what I had just said.

"Wendy died
last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia Maybe she didn't tell
you."


Struck dumb, I groped for a chair.  I had to catch my breath.


"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.
She
seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But
the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She
left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while
I
look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to
this lovely young
woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P"
printed in bold
childish letters.  Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues
-- a yellow
beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully
printed:

A  SANDPIPER  TO  BRING  YOU  JOY.

Tears welled up in
my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love
opened wide. I took
Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,
I'm so sorry," I
uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious
little picture is
framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for
each year of her life
-- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and
undemanding love.

A gift
from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who
taught me
the gift of love.

NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson.
It happened over 20
years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It
serves as a reminder
to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living
and life and each
other. The price of hating other human beings is loving
oneself less.

Life is so complicated; the hustle and bustle of everyday
traumas can make
us lose focus about what is truly important
or what is
only a momentary setback or crisis..

This week, be sure to give your
loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,
take a moment ... even if it is
only ten seconds, to stop and smell the
roses.

This comes from
someone's heart, and is read by many and now I share it with
you.

May
everyone who receives this be blessed! There are NO coincidences!
Everything
that happens to us happens for a reason.  Never brush aside
anyone as
insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?

I wish for you, a
sandpiper.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mz3CPzdCDws if you want to feel better with Rita Hayworth and some fun videos