My parents have always taught me that it is more important to be kind than to be right. When I was younger, I didn't really get that. As I grew up, I realized more and more what it meant. The best way to learn kindess is by example. My mom used to give me a lot of examples that I didn't understand every time.
My story begins many years ago, when I was just a little girl. We live in an old building connected to a larger one. An elderly woman lives next door. She and my mom met for the first time from the window while hanging laundry to dry. After meeting like that a few times, they started talking.Sometimes I was with my mom, but I didn't understand why she was talking to a stranger, even though she seemed very nice. That way, I found out almost everything about her: her name, how old she was,what happened to her husband, something about her children and grandchildren...My mom seemed very patient while she was listening to her stories.I preferred playing with my friends or dancing. I didn't care much about the things they were talking about. My mom and the neighbour became quite good "window friends". But years later,we didn't really see her at the window anymore. My mom was really worried. She looked trough the window a few times a day for weeks. She was so happy when she met her again. The old neighbour was smiling as always, even though she had health issues. She developed gout, and she couldn't walk for a while. Thanks to the therapy, she was getting better. She could walk slowly in her apartment, but she couldn't get down the stairs from the third floor. It meant that she was trapped in her apartment, unable to go out. When my mom explained it to me, I was so sad, and I decided to do something nice for her. I had a few creative ideas, such as drawing her something that could cheer her up, baking her something delicious, or writing her funny poems. I chose to bake her something tasty. First, I started looking for a simlpe recipe because I wanted to do it all by myself. The winner was an apple and carrot cake. A few days later, in the afternoon, I started my baking adventure under my mom's supervision. THhe cake came out perfect. It had to cool down a little bit. Then I sliced it and put it on a plate. I wrapped it in paper and decorated it with a red ribbon. I was ready to deliver it, but also nervous. I have never been to her place. She barely knew me and I didn't know her at all, but I knew that I had to do it. My mum encouraged me while I was climbing the stairs. I felt scared in front of her door, but I rang the doorbell. I couldn't hear anything. I waited because I knew that my neighbour walked with difficulty. After a few minutes, I heard slow footsteps approaching. When she opened the door, she looked surprised. I said: "Good afternoon. This is for you. It's an apple and carrot cake. I hope you will like it. " She was grateful and invited me in. At first I wasn't sure about it, but I had to bring the cake in. She offered me a glass of orange juice, so I sat down. She talket to me about her native island, the lace she used to make when she was younger, her beloved grandchildren and her job as a kindergarten teacher. I listened with interest for more than an hour. I was about to leave when she asked me a few things about myself. I answered kindly and excused myself because I really had to go. She gave me a long, warm hug and thanked me for the cake, but especially for the time dedicated to her. When the door closed, I felt proud of myself, happy and deeply touched.
That small act of kindness that was meant for somebody else turned out to be a miracle for me, as well.