The rain fell relentlessly on the tarmac, forming tiny streams that rushed toward the gutters. From inside my car, with the heater on and soft music playing, I spotted a small figure on the corner. A girl, no older than eight, clutched a bunch of wilted flowers while the downpour soaked her thin jacket.
Something stirred in my chest. I turned off the engine.
“Excuse me, sir! Would you like flowers for your wife?” she called out as I approached, her voice barely audible over the rain. “They’re lovely, and Ill give you a good deal.”
Without hesitation, I took off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. It was far too big for her, but at least it kept her dry.
“Here,” I said, handing her my umbrella. “Youll catch a cold like this.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“No, sir, I cant take this. My mum told me not to accept things from strangers.”
“Your mums right, but this isnt a gift. Its a loan while you work,” I lied with a smile. “How many flowers do you have?”
She counted quickly, her lips moving silently.
“Twenty bunches, sir. A pound each, but Ill give them to you for eighty pence since the rains made them a bit worse for wear.”
I pulled out my wallet and handed her twenty pounds.
“Ill take them all.”
“All of them?” she asked, disbelieving. “But sir, what will you do with so many?”
“Ill give them to people passing by. That way, others can have a brighter day too.”
A shy smile lit up her rain-streaked face.
“Really? Youre so kind! My mum wont believe it.”
“Where is your mum?” I asked, gathering the flowers.
“At home, looking after my little brother. Hes poorly, so I came out instead so she wouldnt get wet.”
My heart ached. This little girl was out here in the storm, trying to care for her family.
“You know what? Keep the coat and the umbrella. I dont need them anymore.”
“But sir”
“No buts. Now run homeyour mum must be worried.”
She nodded, hugged the money to her chest, and dashed off, but she stopped and shouted back, “Thank you, sir! God bless you!”
I watched her disappear around the corner, sheltered now by my red umbrella, then returned to my car, soaked to the bone but lighter in spirit than ever.
As I turned on the heater and dried my hair with a towel from the back seat, I couldnt help but smile. The twenty bunches of flowers filled the car with fragrance, colour, and hope.
That afternoon, I handed them outto the lady at the crossing, the security guard, the girl waiting for the bus, anyone I passed. Each smile I received in return reminded me Id done the right thing.
Sometimes, in the rain, we find the perfect chance to be the light someone else needs.
A note to my readers:
Thank you for staying till the end. I write and share freely because I know what its like to have nothing and still crave a story that feels like a warm hug.
Some days, I wonder if I can keep going. Im a mum, a writer, and Im tired. So tired. But I carry on because writing is the one thing that still saves me, even just a little.
If you ever feel able to support mewith a coffee, a comment, anythingId be ever so grateful. I dont have much, but I have this. And I give it all.
Thank you for not leaving me alone.
