The Joy I Bring

Helen said not to be scared, but that it’s okay if I’m nervous, that’s normal for the first day in a new job. This isn’t just a new job, it’s my very first one. But I’m not frightened. No, I’m super excited! I’ve been training so long for this day, and am beyond ready. The sun isn’t up yet and she is still asleep. I wish she’d just wake up already! Come on, let’s go! 

Months of rigorous training helped me to perfect all the commands, be an excellent listener, tolerant of unexpected noises and movements, and relaxed in all kinds of environments with different people. I don’t like to brag, but the truth is, I passed my exam with flying colours. It consisted of 10 parts, each testing various aspects of my interpersonal skills, memory recall, and responding to challenging situations. It’s so more than that, though. It’s about reading body language and picking up on subtext, and not everyone is able to do this. You have to train your brain to pick up on the tiniest of signals: a quick intake of breath, a subtle tightening in the shoulders, a hesitancy in a gaze. Everyone praised my intuition, said I was born to do this job. Helen, especially, was so incredibly proud of me, and told me so many times! 

Perhaps I’m making it sound easy. You probably think that all who attempt the training programme succeed, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. No, you have to have the right temperament and attention span to handle this job, and the desire to spend lots of time with new people. Oh yes, this is definitely a people-centric job. In other words, it’s perfect for me. 

But wait, Helen is finally up and I think, yes, we’re ready to go! The air is crisp as we step outside, the first hints of dawn painting the sky. There’s something special about early mornings, a sense of peace and promise. I do my usual stretches, a little routine that never fails to amuse Helen. She laughs, saying it’s going to be a big day. I can feel it too; a whirlwind of new faces and challenges, no — opportunities! — awaits.

We’re getting into the car! I love driving with the window open, feeling the wind in my face. While driving, Helen tells me that our first assignment is at a children’s hospital, and all I have to do is make the children happy. What can be easier? Sign me up! 

We enter the hospital, and I immediately get hit by a tsunami of unfamiliar smells and a bustle of strangers all around me. Among the smells I pick up antiseptic and various foods drifting from the cafeteria. But isn’t this what I trained for? I shrug it off and power through. We go into the lift and it doesn’t scare me at all, not a bit, even though it’s crowded. We get out, walk along the corridor, and go into a large room that looks like a play area. Everyone seems sad, but when they see me, their expressions change instantaneously. This is the power I have. I don’t like to brag, but it’s important to be aware of your strengths and capitalise on them. So this is mine: I light up a room. Every single time, without fail. Everyone wants to have a moment with me. In fact, one boy almost trips in his eagerness to get to me. I try to give everyone a fair chance; no-one should feel left out. In a corner, kids are playing musical instruments, triangles and tambourines. It’s making a mighty ruckus, but I pay it no mind. Helen is far away talking to a child, but I can’t go to her or even look in her direction, I have to focus on my own job. There is so much to do and I can’t mess up on my first day! 

All of a sudden I hear a terrible shriek, followed by a howling like a banshee. One of the children is crying. Helen goes to check on them and then comes over to me. 

“You’re doing a great job, Luna!” she says, even though I already knew that. “The girl is just crying because someone took her sandwich. Tired yet?” 

Helen is kind, as always. I’m so grateful and I show her, hoping it’s enough. 

Among the laughter and playful shouts, one child is standing in a corner, her fingers twirling a strand of hair, stealing glances at me now and then. I make eye contact to let her know there is nothing to fear, and walk towards her slowly. I close half of the distance between us, then stop and wait for her to close the other half. With hesitant steps, she approaches, her eyes locked on mine, wide with curiosity and, I think, hope? I sense her uncertainty, the quiet wish for a friend. What follows is a silent conversation, a bond formed without words, as we share a moment of connection that seemed to say, “You’re not alone.”

Before I know it the day is over and we have to leave. But saying goodbye is harder than I thought it would be. As we make our way out, echoes of “Come back soon!” fill the air. I wish I didn’t have to leave. Their faces, alight with joy and gratitude, stay with me as we walk back to the car. In that moment, I understand that this was never just a job; it’s my calling. 

I feel tired but happy. The car ride back is quiet, a stark contrast to the day’s earlier excitement. Helen’s soft humming fills the car, a soothing melody that lulls me into a gentle doze. 

We get back home, have a hearty meal and then I snuggle up in my bed, ready for a long nap. I was such a good girl and tomorrow I’ll be ready to do it all over again. 

Except maybe I won’t steal anyone’s sandwich.