Things That Hide Inside
THINGS THAT HIDE INSIDE
by Dorothy Skinner
I locked the bathroom door and climbed onto the sink. There, away from the bustle of the family gathering, I could inspect my ears in the mirror. I’d never noticed Aunt Ruth’s ears before—that they are enormous and crumpled. That is before today, when Jeffery who brags about being the oldest cousin, said, “Karla, your ears are exactly like Aunt Ruth’s.” Then he laughed, opening his mouth so wide I could see his tonsils.
Aunt Ruth is the one who remembers all her nieces’ and nephews’ birthdays. And when Great Grandmother is sick, Aunt Ruth makes her vegetable soup. I squinted to get a better look. My ears were over-sized, I decided glumly, with definitely a wrinkle or two.
Great Grandmother’s 85th birthday was in full swing. All the aunts, uncles and cousins chattered, in the living room, like the flock of robins that sometimes settles in our back yard cherry tree. I smelled spaghetti and chicken—but I wasn’t hungry.
Next I scrutinized my eyes. They looked worried. Jeffery had pointed at my eyes too, and said they’re like Aunt Ruth’s, “squinty with wrinkly lines underneath.” I turned my head to the left and then to the right. My eyes are brown, like hers. When I winked, crinkles formed around the edges. A tear squeezed from the corner of one eye and splashed on the sink.
Jeffery had also told me my teeth look like Great Grandmother’s. He’d clapped his hands and hooted as if he’d made a great joke. I checked my teeth and then remembered that Great Grandmother has false teeth. I unlocked the bathroom door.
In the living room, little Cousin Tina was scooping strawberry ice cream off the floor with her chubby fingers and putting it back into her cone. I took her sticky hand. “Come on,” I said, “Let’s clean up this mess and get you a fresh cone.”
Tina was contentedly licking her new ice cream cone when Uncle Pete ambled by with his third piece of apple pie. “Just look at you, Karla,” he said. “Your nose is the spittin’ image of your Aunt Ruth’s.” I took a sneak peek at Aunt Ruth’s nose and headed back to the bathroom mirror. I frowned. My nose did point up at the end—but I couldn’t see any crinkly creases or a big brown mole. Mine was kind of red; Aunt Ruth and I both have allergies. I like Aunt Ruth though; she never says mean things.
Later, Tina finished her ice cream and toddled over. She clutched a book about farm animals. I scooted down onto the floor and Tina plopped onto my lap. After we mooed, baaed, and cock-a-doodled our way through the book, she waddled away.
Great Grandmother sat in her squeaky rocking chair finishing a bowl of vegetable soup. I liked the way she slurped it from the spoon; it sounded delicious. “Great Grandmother,” I said, “would you like more soup?”
“Oh my, yes!” she said. “All my favorite things are in it—kind of like this room has all my favorite people.”
She examined me through her bifocals. “You know, Karla, just today I noticed you’re so much like your Aunt Ruth. You show you love God by being kind and helpful.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll get your soup.”
I headed toward the kitchen. What Great Grandmother said made me think. I couldn’t check out kindness and helpfulness in the mirror. They’re things that hide inside—things that only show by the way we treat others. I’d have a bowl of soup too, and slurp it along with Great Grandmother. She was one of my favorite people.
". . . since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another."
I John 4:11 (NIV)
