“Would you help me fix my bicycle, Senor Leo?“
I looked down at the bike lying upside down in our backyard. Both wheels, the chain and the handbrakes had been disassembled. Iveli sat cross-legged on the ground, the chain in one hand and a small wrench in the other, nuts and bolts scattered haphazardly around her. Both hands and the left side of her face were streaked with grease. I sighed. This was the second time in six months she’d taken her bicycle apart … piece by piece … and was unable to put it back together again.
Noticing the frown on my face, she gave me a sheepish grin. “I was sure I could put it back together this time,” she said in a tiny voice.
I sucked in a huge gulp of air and let it out slowly … then silently counted to ten. Months ago when I asked her why she’d taken the bike apart , she’d replied, “I was just curious to see to how all the parts fit together.” I knew the first time I met this unusual child three years ago when her mother brought her to my house that she was different. (her mother was unable to feed and clothe her and the town’s orphanage was seriously overcrowded) And Iveli has turned out to be exactly that — different. She just marches to the beat of a different drummer. When my sister, Ann, visited us last year she brought roller skates and jump ropes for the girls. The first thing Iveli did was put on the skates and try to jump rope – which is almost impossible. But she kept trying. Iveli doesn’t believe anything is impossible.
Being different is okay with me. And I’ve tried to be patient with this adventurous child. But now … looking down at the disassembled bike … my patience was running thin. What can I do to teach her there are limits? I thought. Restrict her to her room the rest of the day? Or maybe take away her weekly allowance? I was about to order her to her room when I suddenly recalled that I didn’t exactly fit the “cookie cutter” mold when I was Iveli’s age. But I was fortunate to have a mother, though she had little formal education, possessed the patience of Job.
Iveli sat gazing thoughtfully up at me, …fear showing in her eyes. Grinning, I kneeled down and gently took the wrench from her hand. “Come on,” I said, “lets see if we can put your bike back together.”
A smile flashed across her face. “Well,” she said in a confident voice as she picked up the chain. “I think we should we start with the …”
