I sauntered down the jungle themed path and sat down on the bench near the White Tiger enclosure. I delighted in spending my breaks here, particularly on Monday’s. Every Monday, a small girl with brilliant white hair and royal blue eyes would visit the White Tiger Exhibit with her mother. I eavesdropped innocently on their conversations. I’ll never forget their first time visiting the enclosure.

“That tiger looks like me, mama,” the child said in innocent amazement. It was then, I realized she was a child with albinism. You see, white tigers are leucistic pigmentation variants of Bengal tigers. She walked directly up to the glass, and one of the tigers met her there; Pearl was the name we had given her. She was one of the older tigers, so she moved slowly and was very intentional about how she exerted her energy. So, when I saw Pearl walk straight up to the child, I knew she felt a connection. Their faces met on either side of the glass, and from then on, they were both equally enraptured with one another.

On this Monday, the girl and her mother came around the path on the way to the tiger enclosure as they always did. I was so distracted by the pair that I hadn’t even realized Pearl was missing from the enclosure. I did a double-take as my eyes bounced around from one tiger to the next. “It can’t be,” I thought to myself. I knew Pearl was older, but I figured she had another couple of good years left in her. I radio’d my manager who confirmed my worst fear. Pearl had gone last night, in her sleep. I watched, feeling helpless, as the girl approached the glass as she always did. Except this time, Pearl did not meet her on the other side.

I ran to the gift shop then rushed back, wiping my tears. I concealed my purchase behind my back. I approached the enclosure, standing beside the girl. “Excuse me, sir?” She looked up at me. “Might you tell me where Pearl is?” She asked with worry in her voice. I kneeled down and met her gaze. “You see, from time to time our very best tigers go to a special place, far more wonderful than any space we offer here,” I managed, holding back tears. “Her new home is filled with luscious green grass that stretches for miles, brilliant blue waterfalls, and overwhelming peace,” I said. “How could she leave me?” The girl stumbled on her words between tears. “We understood one another.” I brought out from behind my back a small stuffed animal, a white tiger with royal blue eyes, and placed it in her hands. “Pearl wanted you to have this. She didn’t want you to ever forget her.” The girl looked up at me with a gentle smile and held the gift tightly in her arms. After that day, I never saw her again.

Part of me thinks it’s because the pain of losing Pearl was too much for her to bear. But another part of me believes she had no reason to return, because the hole that resided in her heart on the first day at the enclosure had been filled. The two of them needed each other; in one another they found belonging and understanding.

While the girl never returned to the zoo, the impact her and Pearl made in my heart never left me. I bought another white tiger stuffed animal from the gift shop, this one for myself. It sits upon my desk, reminding me of the beauty of connection. We all just long to be understood. We all deserve to experience beautiful moments in our ordinary, every day lives. I look at the stuffed toy and I remember, I too, belong.