Heavenly Creatures

The next day, Tara decided to make herself useful by cleaning her room and praying. She had gotten into the habit of doing useful things, and she realized that she only had two choices: to wallow or be useful. And she recognized that being useful was probably better for her mental and emotional health.

As she was taking a load of the laundry to the laundry room, her grandmother came in from the garden.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” grandmother said.

“I want to,” Tara said.

“Well thank you, dear,” the old woman said. “What will you do for the rest of the day?”

Tara shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“There’s a Buddhist bookstore nearby,” grandmother said. “You might want to try visiting. I know the owner.”

Tara nodded, then stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say next.

“That’s all I had to say. You can go do the laundry now,” grandmother said, walking away. Tara almost laughed but contained herself enough to walk to the laundry room first.

After putting the clothes in the dryer, Tara realized that she would have to wait an hour and a half to finish. She decided to take her grandmother’s advice and visit the bookstore.

The store was ten minutes away on foot, and the walk helped clear Tara’s mind of the cobwebs of anxiety regarding her parents. Small bells heralded her entrance into the store, and she stopped in the entryway in shock. The old shopkeeper at the register bore a striking resemblance to the old man.

“Are you my guide?” Tara asked.

The old shopkeeper turned to smile at her, and only then did Tara realize that he was not the same person she had played go with in South Korea.

“You could say that,” the man said. “It depends on what book you were looking for.”

Tara let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Oh, my mistake. I thought you were someone else.”

“No worries, my dear,” the old shopkeeper said. “Let me know if you need anything.” And with that, he disappeared into the back of the shop, where Tara could see that he had been eating lunch.

Tara browsed slowly, enjoying the assortment of books, statues, and tea sets. She saw that the shop also sold tea, and she considered buying some for her grandmother.

When the shopkeeper came out to the front of the shop, she asked him about one particular statue. It looked so much like her sister that she just had to know.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“That’s Avalokitesvara,” the old shopkeeper said. “That’s a particularly beautiful piece I found during my last trip to Tibet.”

A shock went through Tara. She was surprised at hearing her sister’s name in this place, outside of her spiritual wormhole. “Who is she?” she asked.

“She?” The old shopkeeper chuckled. “Well, I suppose she is a bodhisattva who so loved the worlds and felt such compassion for those suffering that she split into a thousand different forms to help all creatures. Depending on the circumstance, Avalokitesvara could take the form of a person, a book, an animal, or even an object—all to aid beings in achieving enlightenment.”

“Like a multifaceted jewel held up to the light,” Tara whispered, suddenly remembering her favorite toy at the orphanage. She had forgotten the memory until now. She had loved to play with a glass ball, holding it up to the light to scatter rainbows on the carpet.

“Yes, exactly,” the man said. “Very mysterious indeed. But mysterious in a good way.”

Tara bought several books, including a promising one called The Path to Enlightenment by the Dalai Lama, some tea, and the statue of Avalokitesvara. The old man asked her about her grandmother, and she answered his questions for a few more minutes before saying goodbye and leaving for home.

In her room, Tara cleared her bedside table and set Avalokitesvara gently onto the glass.

“Welcome back, sister,” she whispered. She felt comforted, almost as if her sister were truly beside her.

“Tara!” a voice screeched. Tara jumped.

“Yes, grandma?” she asked, running out of her room.

“Did you fold the laundry?”

“Oh,” Tara said. “No, not yet.”

“Don’t forget,” grandmother said, bustling about in the kitchen.

“Yes, grandma,” Tara replied meekly.

Her grandmother was one tough cookie.