Tagebucheintrag

Journal Entry 17

18. Juli 2020

The light sounds of knocking on my bedroom door woke me from a well-needed deep sleep. After requesting a few moments to get dressed, I got out of bed and realized I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. I honestly do not even remember going to bed last night.

When I opened my bedroom door, I thought I was dreaming. Standing in the hallway was a dark-haired, petite woman holding two suitcases. As soon as we made eye contact, the woman dropped her bags, ran towards me, and gave me the most comforting hug that I have ever felt. With her eyes full of tears, she quietly said, “Everything will be alright, Fräulein Heng is here now.” I sobbed uncontrollably as I hugged her tighter and tighter.

It has been more than a decade since I saw Fräulein Heng. The last time I saw her was when I had driven her to the airport so she could take a red-eye flight to Singapore. She was headed home after learning that her mother was gravely ill. Fräulein Heng never returned to Dorstenland, that is until this morning. She had remained in Singapore to care for her father after her mother had passed away.

I felt as if time reversed course as I watched Fräulein Heng pour me a cup of tea and then proceed to make me breakfast. It seemed I was once again, a teenager.  Fräulein Heng would always make me a cup of tea and a meal when I was upset or depressed. The two of us would sit at the kitchen table, and she would hear me vent my teenage angst as I ate whatever she placed in front of me. She was always the best listener and provided the perfect advice to tackle my problems.

Fräulein Heng is a natural caregiver. Years ago, when my father and mother were attending an event at the Shangri-La Hotel in Singapore, a young lady came to my mother’s rescue. My mother was on the dance floor, and she was having what is currently termed a “wardrobe malfunction.” The young lady saw the horror in my mother’s eyes and leaped to the rescue. With a thread and needle from her purse, the evening was saved. When my mother had told the young lady that she had not been feeling her usual self, the young lady replied, “That is because you are pregnant.”

My mother had not announced the pregnancy to anyone, including my father. She had wanted to wait until they returned to Eberbach before announcing the good news to my father. Nine months later, I was born—the first of five children given birth to by my mother.

The young lady worked as a nanny for Dorstenland’s ambassador in Singapore. Over the remaining days of my parent’s visit, my mother took a strong liking to the young lady who’s name was “Heng.” My mother offered her a job working for our family in Dorstenland. Heng accepted the offer and would later be called “Fräulein Heng” by the one boy and four girls of the Köhler family that she helped to raise.

When Fräulein Heng returned to Singapore, she simultaneously took care of her father while working as a language translator at the Dorstenland Embassy. Her fluency in Chinese, Malay, English, and German still impresses me even to this day.

Fräulein Heng’s father passed away earlier this year, and now she has returned to Dorstenland to take care of me, yet once again.