An Ode to Brooms

The neighbor´s servant lingers in the street. His hips are holding up oversized jeans with patched holes in the knees. His chest is covered by a graphic tee that holds no meaning to him. His hair falls into his eyes as he examines the concrete path littered with twigs and speckled with white and yellow flowers that tumbled down from last night´s wind. He has two brooms of different types and a dust pan at the ready. Camilo spots him as we come around the corner and before the boy realizes Camilo´s intentions, he has saved a broom from its leaning on the nearest tree. Camilo sweeps up the twigs and flowers with a great hacking motion that causes the natural mess to spread and fling into the air. Yet, his help is welcomed and even relished as the boy stops to take photos of his young helper. Camilo´s love to serve is momentarily fulfilled by the opportunity presented by this broom. The foreign child and servant boy from a far-away village are knit together in a union rarely witnessed.

The perfect family get (out of town) away. The cabins are supported by wooden stilts shooting their way out of the lake. Each is lined with colorful rugs and a low table for a relaxing family time while we await food from the kitchen. We take a walk to view the fishermen casting odd nets in the water and then pass over a quick bridge where the colorful koi fish look up at us with open mouthed kisses. Just passing the bridge is a playground perfect to challenge Camilo, yet not remain terrified while being his mother. It is truly a comfortable place to sit at the cabin sipping from a coconut while my toddler is at play. And yet, after only mere minutes of being here and enjoying it, he finds a short handled and long thistle broom at the steps of the playground. It has become his mission to bat away at the invading dust. For him, this broom reminds us there is yet no separation of work and play.

Our car pulling out its old bag of tricks has us stuck at the hotel we were trying to leave this morning. After a fun time of biking and trekking through some sights of Laos, we are stuck here in this place. Misa cranks the key in the ignition enough times to repeat the sound in dreams for weeks to come. In this small town our sense of community or help is none. The receptionist steps out toward our stuffed car to tell us we need to move it. I push past my frustration at the comment and ask the only soul around what we can do…can he call me a mechanic? As Misa remains in the car with hope still in his fingers, I unbuckle Camilo and we step into the rain. We take refuge under the archway entrance and there he finds what he needs to pass the time. Content as ever, Camilo sweeps away at the slippery hotel floor. As calls are made and conversations in our best and sadly terrible Lao are made, the broom is this mother’s peacekeeper.

In his newly acquired long sleeve swim-suit, Camilo spends only a few seconds near the water at the beach in Phuket because he has caught sight of something familiar. As a worker sweeps the never ending sand off of a pair of reclining chairs, Camilo races toward him and picks up that broom the moment it escapes the worker´s hand. And off he is to put this beach sand in proper order. Literally an ocean at his fingertips and the broom gets all the attention.

Brooms brooms

Special sticks

Bristles of brush

Or weeds not lush

Handles short

A toddler´s comfort

Or handles long

Spiders be-gone!

Brooms brooms

Such a treat

For work or play

Perfect each day.