A Knock at the Door
It was a cold wintery day. I was sitting down in front of the fire in my comfy chair with a mug of hot cocoa in my hands. Between the wafting smell of the chocolate and the warmth of the fire, I could feel my eyelids slowly close when there came a loud knock at the door.
Startled, I almost dropped the mug of chocolate into my lap. I placed the cup on the side table and went to the door.
It was a large wooden door to my cabin with no window to see who was knocking. I asked who it was, but got no response other than another loud knocking. With a little trepidation, I slowly opened the door.
She stood there in front of me. A small diminutive woman, dressed in a tattered coat, clearly too cold to talk. Not knowing what else to do, I invited her in and had her sit by the fire. It took a while, but she finally warmed up enough so that she could communicate with me.
She motioned for something to write with and I gave her a pen and some paper. This is what she wrote:
“Please help me. I am deaf and cannot speak. I have been abandoned by my family and friends. They no longer want to put up with my disability. I need to find a place where I can be accepted.”
Judging from the looks of her, I could tell that the tale that she had told me had some truth to it. I didn’t know how to react. Luckily for me, I had learned some basic sign language in my youth so I tried signing to her. “What do you want me to do?”
Her face changed as I signed those words. She immediately dropped the pen and paper and began signing too quickly for me to understand.
I signed to her to slow down, which she did.
She wanted shelter from the cold and food. I knew that I could provide her shelter and warmth for a while as I was single, had an extra room, and certainly had food to provide her with nourishment. The question I had to answer to myself was, was I willing to do that for this stranger?
It turns out, I was. I said that I would allow her to stay with me for a few days, while I tried to find a more permanent place for her to go to.
I can’t tell you whether it was due to my being alone for so many years or the help that she gave me with the cooking and companionship, or just due to the kindness and person that she was, but those few days, turned into a lot more.
I never did find out the full background to where she had lived and the trials she had to go through in that period of time before we met. Maybe someday she will tell me that story. Until then, I am just happy that she came into my life.
Especially on cold winter nights where I have someone to share with me a mug of hot cocoa and a warm fire to get cozy with.
From one storyteller to another, that was beautiful.