The Little Emissary | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: The Little Emissary | Previous Challenge Entry
By Asha John
08/20/24
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It is rather unusual to find a 5-year-old so amiable and quick to look for middle ground in a situation of playground squabbling over who cheated in a game, or whose turn was next. But that was my little neighbor, Amanda. Unbeknownst to her, I have been a silent witness to many such interesting episodes since my front porch sits right across the kids’ playground in our neighborhood.

Even yesterday. It was the usual evening playtime for all the kids in the block. The twin boys from down the street were starting to fuss over who got to be team captain or something to that effect. I could catch a drift of the argument from their shouts, “My turn!”, “Not fair!”
And sure enough, Amanda stepped into the middle of the budding quarrel, advocating for a compromise in her soft yet persuasive voice. My curiosity was piqued, and I strained to hear what exactly she was saying. Unfortunately, a car passing by drowned out her voice.

Over the months since I moved into this neighborhood, I have often wondered how a little girl could have such a disposition - a very generous public spirit always trying to reconcile differences and restore harmony in the kids’ world.

That is, until this morning.

Like any other day, I passed by Amanda’s house during my morning walk, greeting and waving back at friendly neighbors along the way. I don’t know what came over me then, but without pausing to think, I turned back and walked up the driveway of her house. It will be just a quick hello to her parents, I convinced myself. Now I kind of wish I hadn’t been so uncharacteristically impulsive.

Halfway up, I froze in my tracks as loud yelling and harsh voices spilled out of the half open windows.
“How dare you accuse me of laziness when you never pick up after yourself!” The angry outburst of a woman was followed by a volley of spiteful retorts from the next room. For some reason, I stood glued to the spot, my heart sinking as I recognized the undertones of a conflict filled and faltering marriage. Over the commotion, I heard that familiar childish voice pipe up pacifyingly, “Mammy, I can help clean the room.”

The quavering in her voice hit me hard and I hurried down the driveway.

How sad it was that a 5-year-old had to assume that role and yet, it seemed like the heavy burden she carried made her an ambassador of peace in the little children’s world.

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