A cross between dinner and performance art, Dining in the Dark is a new trend where diners enjoy a meal with one of the key senses removed in order to strengthen your other senses, such as taste. Many of these restaurants are operated by the blind in order to offer a chance into their world and a unique experience on the world around you. The very first dine in the dark restaurant was opened in 1999 in Zurich, Switzerland, and is called Blindekuh (Blind man’s Buff). Since then, they have grown in popularity and popped up on nearly every country.

Encouraged by online reviews, my husband and I found Nox, a dine in the dark restaurant in Singapore and we booked a dinner in the dark , all ready to challenge my taste buds and table manners. We started in the entrance and had a glass of wine with the manager who explained the process. First, we put phones, watches, and anything that could reflect or provide a light source into a secure locker. Before entering the dark room, we were seated in a lighted room and given some starters while reviewing the drinks menu. Soon after, we were introduced to our waiter who was visually impaired. He was responsible for guiding us up to the second floor of the restaurant (the dark room) and bringing us to our table. There were 2 other couples with us and we were requested to form a single line and rest our hands on the shoulders of the person in front of us as the waiter guided all of us up to the room.

My first response to stepping into a completely dark room was

This experience had instead given me a much-needed attitude towards life.

A Charitable Heart

Mom had a unique perspective on being charitable that I didn’t really understand until one cold winter day when she picked me up at school.

“Who is that child? “Mom peered through the windshield as a skinny, greasy-haired girl led a crew of ragged children across the street. “They don’t even have coats. It’s freezing! “

“That’s Becky Ingler. She always looks like that, “I replied. My mother watched them move along the sidewalk. “Where are we going? “I asked as she inched along the street, keeping pace about a half-block behind the Inglers.

They entered a half-ruined store. “They live here?” Mom mumbled, looking at me. “Tell me about them.” I told her what I knew; that the Inglers didn’t have a father, and sometimes they smelled funny and everybody laughed at them. My mother nodded thoughtfully. “I think I’ll visit them tomorrow.” She turned to me and added, “I want you to come with me.” “OK.” I replied.

The next day, I followed Mom to the Inglers’ front door. A tiny, exhausted-looking woman appeared, and Mom smiled and offered her hand. “Hello, Mrs. Ingler. I’m Mrs. Tovey. I’m just visiting some of our neighbors to get acquainted. “Once inside, my mother studied each of the children surrounding unhappy Becky, who was reading a worn-out book to them. She rudely ignored my nod. Mrs. Ingler smiled politely and thanked us for our visit. Before we left, Mom told Mrs. Ingler she sincerely hoped we would see her again soon. I could not understand what she meant by that, but I soon learned.

Mom worked her old sewing machine for two days and nights. She collected coats from the donation boxes, local secondhand stores and our own closets, patching, taking in and letting out seams (缝合线). “Wow!” I said. “They’re lucky to get these.”

“No,” said Mom as she faced me. “We’re the lucky ones to be able to help them. But we need to make sure the Inglers don’t have to pay a price for them. “She then explained, “I don’t want these coats to cost them their pride or their dignity.”

Later that day, we went to the Inglers’ again.

Mrs. Ingler gazed at the coat, and then glanced at Becky, who was eyeing it with interest.

I’m smaller than everyone else my age. When I walk in the halls at school, I have to squeeze in between the bigger kids to get by. At the playground, sometimes even little kids try to boss me around. Mia, my best friend, is so tall that when she walks, I have to jog to keep up with her.

I used to try to make myself taller whenever I could. My posture was perfect, straight as an arrow. I hung from the tree in our backyard to stretch out my arms and legs. I even ate all my vegetables. Every day I measured myself, but I was the same height every time. Frustrating!

“Don’t worry,” Mom always said. “Being small has its advantages.” “Really? I could never notice any.”

One day, Mrs. Alvarez announced to the class that we’d be putting on a spring play. I practiced all the lines. But at the audition (试演), when I walked up to the stage, Mrs. Alvarez cried, “You’ll be perfect as the elf (小精灵)! You’re just the right size for the costume.” I even never got a chance to deliver the practiced lines. Back home I grumbled (咕哝) to mum that I was made an elf. But she bet I would be the best elf. To please her, I went to rehearsals (排练), though I only had two lines.

Mia got the lead role-a girl wandering through a magical fairy forest in search of her lost dog. In the last scene, she finds a box under a giant mushroom, and when she opens it, her dog jumps out. Mrs. Alvarez’s dog, Prince, played the dog role. She brought him to all the rehearsals, and when he wasn’t onstage, we got to play with him, but he seemed to like me best.

The night of the show, my first line came early, “Let’s ask the Fairy Queen!” Since my only other line was toward the end, I waited offstage, playing with Prince.

Finally, the grand end came, and Prince was brought onstage inside the box.

“How can we get Prince out from beneath the stage?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.

Spreading Kindness Around the World

“Mom, we want to write a book,” my five-year-old twins, Delilah and Nathenial, told me one day.

I looked at my kids curiously. “What do you mean?”

Are they joking? I thought. I don’t know the first thing about getting a book published. Still, I didn’t want to squash their creativity. “Okay…what do you want it to be about?”

“An envelope that travels all over the world spreading kindness,” Nathenial said, his eyes shining.

Over the next few months,my kids dreamed up more of the story. The main characters were a pair of twins just like them. I wrote down everything, making sure not to miss a detail. The kids even sketched scenes with colored pencils.

The theme of Delilah and Nathenial’s story was being kind to others, no matter how little you might have. I wondered if that was partly because I’d told them what my life had been like when I was their age.

I remember my father died when I was five. My mom, younger sister and I ended up on the streets,sleeping in parks and homeless hotels for more than a year. I found myself standing in any line I could to get donated food.

Despite—or maybe because of—our hardships, I tried to help others. I handed out snacks to people who were homeless, took in stray (走失的) animals and helped give out donations at a church where the woman in charge would send me home with food. After I gave birth to our twins, I not only taught them to be kind but also to make sure they knew that anything was possible.

I guess I did a pretty good job, because here the twins were, at age five, managed to write a book. After we self-published The Magical Envelope last Children’s Day, the kids decided to donate it to the kindergarten in our community.

The twins, now eight, continue to amaze me.

My kids understand more about the hardship I endured.

Mary Lee seemed to have everything. She was very beautiful with a wonderful figure and an attractive face. She was very rich. Her clothes were better than anyone else’s and she had more of them. Her books were always new and expensive as were her pens, school bags and bicycle. She was very clever too and without appearing to do very much work. She was always the first in all the examinations and always answered all the questions, while the rest of the class were still thinking.

With all this, or really because of all this, no one liked Mary Lee. She was too good, too clever and she was also very proud. No one was quite good enough to talk to her or to be seen with her or to be her friend. And so, with all her proud ways and riches and brains, she was lonely but she did not care because she was always the best in everything. She was like a princess in the class. She always thought that the other students kept their distance from her because she was too excellent. “Lions and tigers are always lonely, and only the weak get together,” she told herself.

As the end of term drew near, the pupils including Mary Lee began to think about the most important prize of all. This was the prize, offered by the principal, for the best essay to be written on one of two subjects: Happiness and Friendship. All the teachers and pupils paid close attention to the prize, for it was really a great honor. “I needn’t worry about that,” thought Mary Lee, as the others began to read and to think about the essay. “I shall easily win. After all, my compositions are always better than the other students’.”

“Pride goes before a fall,” they say and it certainly did in the case of poor Mary Lee.

Mary Lee suddenly realized that how silly she had been.

There are lots of chances in front of us. Whether you can seize them or not depends on the choices you make. This reminds me of one choice I made during my childhood.

Two tickets. Only two tickets to the final basketball game.

Three pairs of eyes focused on the tickets in Dad’s out-stretched hand. Mike, the oldest, asked the question running through everyone’s mind, “Only one ticket for us three? But, Dad, which of us will go with you?” Avery, the youngest, repeated the question quietly. I asked Dad if there was any chance to get more tickets. I might be the middle sister, but I was just as eager as my basketball-crazy brothers for a night out with Dad. Dad said he’d got the tickets from a friend and there were only two available.

Seeing that none of us would give up the chance, Dad told us he would choose which of the three of us deserved to go by the following morning.

The next morning, we hurried into the kitchen and looked for Dad, only to find that he had gone out. We were told to get started on our Saturday cleanup as soon as we finished breakfast. Mike complained that he couldn’t concentrate on chores with the game a mere eleven hours away. He slurped the last of his milk, grabbed the basketball and headed towards the back door. Avery dashed after his brother. Before I realized it, the door snapped shut. I glanced out the window and saw Mike practicing his shot while Avery cheered him on.

Seeing the mess on the breakfast table—the leftovers on the sticky plates and dirty cups, I felt frustrated. I approached the window and knocked on it. When the boys looked at me, I held up a kitchen sponge and dishtowel. Mike casually nodded to me and held up five fingers. Sure, five more minutes! I didn’t believe they would return to do the cleanup in five minutes, especially in Dad’s absence. Apparently, they had made their choice.

Anyway, I chose to do the Saturday morning chores on my own.

Dad was happy to know I found the ticket he had hidden in the cupboard.