The chirper in the wall

In this sometimes bewildering environment, I appreciate the small successes more and more. I am thankful for the tiny kindnesses and interactions that make Cambodia beautiful. Even odd and mildly annoying surprises increase my affection for this place.

One such quirky event took place last night in my apartment. When Carrie and I sit in the living room and chat in the evening, a squeaking noise from the wall punctuates our conversation. The noise is not quite a gecko chirp but not exactly a bird twirp. Dubbed, "the chirper in the wall," the rustling, talkative creature seemed to be voicing its opinion. I thought it was a bat, Carrie guessed a mouse or bird.

So last night, Carrie was making delicious soup and Mel came over for dinner. As I grabbed my keys to unlock the orange gate for her, I looked back toward the kitchen and saw something dart in through the open window (we don't have screens). It was a mouse with the longest tail I have ever seen! It scurried over to the kitchen and helped itself to the water in one of our ant traps (plastic bowls of water under the legs of the cabinet to keep ants out of food).

I gasped and pointed out the bold invader to Carrie, who sighed and reached for a broom. After letting Mel in and warning her of the drama in the kitchen, I picked up my camera to record the saga. Carrie, broom in one hand, large green bowl in the other, was trying to coax the mouse out from behind the cabinet where it had hidden. However, Carrie's efforts were only amounting to her petting the mouse with the broom. I began snapping away until Carrie, flustered by the clever mouse, pled, "This is not a documentary!" and handed me the broom. By then the alleged chirper lay rather floppily on the floor, perhaps playing dead or perhaps crippled by the broom.

With broom and feather duster, we scooped the mouse into the bowl. Carrie bravely carried the mouse to the back deck and unceremoniously dumped it into the concrete backyard. We all felt a little sorry for the chirper, who may have become perished in the fall or scampered away to drink from our ant traps another day. However, the chirping in the wall continues. Perhaps the chirper left a family behind or perhaps it is another pest entirely.

I realize this rather long story may not exactly be inspirational to readers. But in some weird way, it reminds me of adventures to be had. When I think about the adventure of living in Cambodia, this Mark Twain quote comes to mind.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

I doubt Mark Twain had catching mice along with the trade winds in mind. But I think it is a reminder that despite the possibilities of pain and loss, taking the risk rewards us in the end. Even in little ways, like the comical chatter or the chirper in the wall.