Beside me, on a bench, sat a little girl of five. She swung her legs and chatted away about her life with innocent candour:
Ive never seen my dad, because he left me and my mum when I was really little. Mum passed away last year. Grown-ups told me she had died.
The girl glanced at me and continued her story:
After the funeral, my aunt, Liz my mums sister came to live with us. I was told she acted kindly by not sending me to an orphanage. They explained that Aunt Liz is now my guardian, and Ill be living with her from now on.
She paused, looked under the bench, then spoke again:
After I moved in, Aunt Liz started tidying up the house: she packed all of my mums things in a corner and wanted to throw them away. I started crying and begged her not to, so she let me keep them. Now I sleep in that corner, on top of my mums things. At night, it feels warm, as though shes still with me.
Every morning, Aunt Liz gives me something to eat. Shes not very good at cooking, mum was much better, but she asks me to eat everything. I dont want to upset her, so I finish what she serves. I understand shes doing her best, and its not her fault she cant cook like mum. Then she sends me out for a walk, and Im not allowed to come back until it gets dark. Aunt Liz is really, really nice!
She likes to show off to the other aunties she knows. I dont know them well, but they often visit. Aunt Liz sits with them for tea, tells funny stories, says lovely things about me, and treats both the aunties and me to sweets.
The girl sighed and carried on:
I cant only eat sweets all the time though. Aunt Liz never scolds me for anything. Shes always kind. One time she even gave me a doll, though its a bit poorly its leg is broken and it has one wandering eye. Mum never gave me a doll that was sick.
The little girl hopped off the bench and began to skip on one leg:
I have to go now, because Aunt Liz said the aunties are coming over today, and I need to dress nicely before they arrive. She told me shed give me a tasty cake afterwards. Goodbye!
She bounced away to do her errands. I sat there for a long time, deep in thought, and everything I pondered seemed to circle around good Aunt Liz. I wondered what was the purpose of such goodness. Why did she want everyone to believe she was so noble? Could someone truly remain indifferent to a child sleeping on the floor, hugging the clothes of a lost mother?
In the end, I realised that real kindness isnt shown off or spoken about it is felt, quietly, when someone truly cares and understands.
