Every time I asked SS about her baby she would used both hands to indicate the baby’s length.
A year later, she would still do the same.
I started wondering why didn’t she use her hands to indicate the baby’s height.
Then someone told me that most times she sees her baby sleeping – not standing up.
That’s because when she leaves the house in the morning, it would still be dark and the baby would be sleeping.
When she returns home from work at night, the baby would have gone to bed already – sleeping again.
Rumor that it that when she was due to deliver that same baby, she drove to the hospital, parked the car, went into the delivery room, gave birth to the baby, came back down, drove home with the baby, and continued with doing her office emails.
This woman is a senior leader for our company in Asia Pac.
She is very hardworking, very good with clients, and is an amazing person.
She’s also very humble.
Not long ago, she was seconded to the chairman’s office in New York and spent about a year there.
It is said that she is being prepared to greater things.
I am sure she is destined for something bigger.
And I wish her well. I respect her a lot. And I like her as a person.
I just hope she doesn’t neglect her family though.
Thinking of her reminded me of a poem by Alice Chase; it was given to my wife and I when our first baby was born:
To My Grown-Up Son
My hands were busy through the day,
I didn’t have much time to play
The little games you asked me to.
I didn’t have much time for you.
I’d wash your clothes; I’d sew and cook,
But when you’d bring your picture book
And ask me please to share your fun
I’d say, “A little later, son.”
I’d tuck you in all safe at night
And hear your prayers, turn out the lights,
Then tip toe softly to the door.
I wish I’d stayed a minute more.
For life is short, the years rush past,
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at your side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away,
There are no longer games to play,
No good-night kiss,
No prayers to hear,
That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still,
The days are long and hard to fill,
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to.