Long ago, when I still ran my little dress shop in Manchester, a heavily pregnant woman came in just as I was about to close for the evening. Though the hour was late, she lingered, fingers brushing over the gowns as if searching for something. We fell into conversation, and she confided in meher husband had left her with two young children, forcing her to move from their rented flat back to her parents home in Sheffield. Trouble upon trouble, and now this: she was with child, too far along to consider anything but going through with it. Nothing fit her anymore. Her story wasnt mine, but I understood well enoughshe was looking for the cheapest frock, yet even that was beyond her means.
Wearily, I thought it no great loss to give her one. Her face lit up, gratitude spilling over as she clutched the parcel. Then she was gone, and time rolled on. I forgot all about it.
Then, one ordinary afternoon, a woman walked in, smiling as if we were old friends. I wracked my brainwho was she? From her modest handbag, she drew a small package and began to speak. You might not remember, she said, but years ago, I came to you, desperate and expecting. I couldnt afford a single dress. You gave me one. You told me everything would be all rightthat no burden in life is too heavy to bear. Your kindness carried me through. I had the baby. Its just me now, with three little ones, but were managing. And I believe better days are coming. Thank you. What you did mattered more than you know.
We embraced, wished each other well, and she left. When I opened the package, I found a pair of wingssimple, childlike angel wings. A lump rose in my throat. Id given her that dress more to rid myself of the discomfort of her plight than anything else. Yet somehow, in that moment, Id been her angellistening, offering a few earnest words, handing over a plain frock.
So little it takes to lift someone from the dark. Sometimes, just a kind word and a smile to send them on their way.
