Guest or host?

Thursday. 

I came into the backyard to find the stranger and his wife with brooms in hand. They were sweeping every corner of the back patio, which is daily carpeted in the leaves of a locust tree, succumbing to fall. 

I asked about their grandchildren, and they set their work aside to show me photos on a phone. The stranger’s wife pointed to each round face and told me name and age. “They’re beautiful,” I said, followed by “Mashallah!” (The same Arabic expression of blessing that a neighbour once used on me when I became the mother of seven tiny chicks.) She smiled a swell of pride and returned to the sweeping.

…  

Later.

It had been a playful evening of carving pumpkins and drinking spiced apple cider. The stranger, who was hesitant at first, took up his carving implements with the skill of a surgeon. (He was, after all, a surgeon for over thirty years before he came to Canada.) Sitting across the table from him, I asked if he would be my subject, and he happily agreed. “Should I include your ears?” I asked. “Oh yes of course!” he laughed. 

As we carved, he talked. “One day I performed fourteen amputations,” he said matter of factly. “There was an explosion in the capital that day.” He paused. “The hardest procedure was on a mother of four… I had to amputate both her legs at the hips.” He stood up from the table and pointed, so it was clear. He sat down again and spoke softly. “I wondered if it would have been better if the explosion took her life… But then I saw her with her children and I knew...it is better to be alive.”

We finished carving our pumpkins, placed tea lights inside, and set them down on the freshly swept patio to admire.

…

Later still.

The stranger was standing at the sink, washing dishes. 

“Am I your guest or your host?” he turned and asked me, sponge in hand.  

“Umm…”  I knew this wouldn’t be a straightforward answer from the twinkle in his eye. I deliberated.

“I am your host!” he cried, his enthusiasm spilling over. “In my country, you can be a guest in someone’s house for three days...after that, you are washing the dishes!” 

...And what a host you have become, dear stranger.