Next to me, on an old wooden bench, sat a little girl about five years old. She swung her legs back and forth, telling me about her life:
Ive never seen my father, because he left mum and me when I was really tiny. Mum died a year ago. The grown-ups told me she passed away.
She glanced at me before carrying on with her story:
After the funeral, my aunt Linda, who was my mums sister, came to live with me. They said she was very noble because she didnt send me to an orphanage. I was told Aunt Linda is now my guardian, and that Ill stay with her.
She fell silent for a moment, looked down under the bench, and continued:
When I moved in, Aunt Linda started tidying up the house: she put all of mums things in the corner and wanted to throw them away. I started crying and begged her not to. She let me keep the things. Now, I sleep in that corner. At night, I curl up on mums things, and it feels warm, almost as if shes right beside me.
Every morning, my aunt gives me something to eat. Shes not a great cookmum was much betterbut she always asks me to finish everything she serves. I dont want to upset her, so I eat it all. I understand shes making an effort when she cooks for me. Its not her fault she cant cook like mum. Then she sends me out for a walk, and Im not allowed to return home until the evening begins to set in. Aunt Linda is very, very kind!
She enjoys boasting to the other aunts who come to visit about me. I dont know these ladies well, but they drop by often. Aunt Linda sits with them over tea, spinning funny stories, showering me with kind words, and spoiling both the aunts and me with sweet treats.
After saying this, the girl sighed and continued:
I cant eat sweets all the time, though. Aunt Linda has never scolded me for anything. She treats me gently. One day, she gave me a doll. Of course, the doll is a bit poorlyits got a bad leg and one eye that winks a lot. My mum never gave me a sickly doll.
The girl hopped off the bench and began bouncing on one leg:
I have to go! Aunt Linda said the aunts are coming today, and before they arrive I need to dress up nicely. She told me thered be a lovely cake for me afterwards. Goodbye!
She dashed off to do her errands. I sat for quite a while, lost in thought, and all my reflections circled around this “kind” Aunt Linda. I wondered what purpose this sort of goodness really served. Why did she want everyone to think she was noble? How could anyone look upon a child sleeping on the floor, wrapped in her dead mothers clothes, and remain indifferent?
Today reminded me: acts that look noble from the outside can feel so empty up close. Kindness isnt about telling stories at tea or spoiling someone with sweetsits about watching and listening, and making sure a child finds comfort, not just in old clothing, but in genuine care.
