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What might seem like an insignificant act of kindness can sometimes touch hearts more than we know. I hope you'll let Mariam Smith's story inspire you to find a way to bless others, no matter how small the blessing may seem. Read on, leave a comment, and most of all, I wish every one of you a merry Christmas and joyous New Year!
by
Mariam Smith
She was nothing more than a scrawny
girl in a worn tweed coat with missing buttons.
The wear of her clothes reflected a life of loss, and the lackluster
shag of her dirt brown hair matched the dull stare of her dark green eyes.
Her face seemed too young to be
written over with an expression of such sorrow.
Never before had I seen such a heartbreaking sight as the form of this
child. Yet, with nobody else had I experienced
such a bittersweet moment.
It happened as the holidays were
fast approaching, and the bustle of shoppers darting left and right across the
shop-lined street created just enough chaos for the extraordinary to go
unnoticed.
Normally, I wouldn’t say that I’m
one who takes notice of detailed things.
But since the day I did, there seems to be a reason to look for the
things that go beyond my understanding.
I was sitting on a bench just
outside my wife’s bakery, and the trees, arches, and windows all displayed the
usual Christmas decorations. Though my
coat kept me shielded from the cold, a hot chocolate in my hand during the
chilly times wasn’t an unfamiliar sight.
Upon bringing the lid of the cup to
my mouth, I happened to peer through the rising steam, and lo and behold,
across the street, in an alley, leaning slumped against a building, was the
slender figure of Amelia Fawkes.
Watching me.
I drew a sharp breath, choking on
the drink. I thought I saw a smile dart
across her face, fleeting. I remember
thinking maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe Amelia Fawkes hadn’t found my choking on
hot chocolate amusing at all, and it’d been only a trick of light from the
store at her side.
Either way, I found myself walking
toward Amelia, like she had me in a trance.
As if her sorrowful expression had somehow captivated my heart. Thoughts flickered as I neared her. Thoughts of how she was the daughter of the
notorious town banker, infamous for swindling new folks, and feasting like a
king in the most expensive restaurants, while his family was never in sight.
Oh, yes. My heart panged when I saw Amelia. All I wanted to do, then, was get this girl
to smile.
“Hey there, Amelia!” I said, trying to sound cheerful.
She didn’t respond.
She remained staring at the same
spot.
I bit the inside of my cheek,
thinking fast. The hot chocolate! Of
course, I thought.
“Would you care for some hot
chocolate?” I said.
Her eyes flickered to my face, then
the cup, then back to the same point.
Encouraged, I knelt to be eye
level. “Here,” I said. “You can have it! It’s too chilly out to not have a
steaming cup of hot chocolate.”
I smiled. Hesitance glistened in her eyes. “Go on, Amelia. It’s the most delicious hot chocolate you’ll
ever try! I would know; I made it, see?
Now, don’t go telling my wife that. She
thinks she makes the best cup of hot chocolate in the world but,” I dropped my voice, leaning in, “between you and me. . .
mine’s better.”
I winked. Her eyes lit up. A little giggle slipped out her mouth and she
covered her face with a bare hand.
“Here,” I offered again.
She accepted the drink with a tentative
grin. Her eyes positively sparkled,
then. A lush green against the face that
was nearly pale as the previous night’s snow.
I had never seen anybody look so delighted by a gift before, even ones
that were worth a significant amount more.
“Thank you,” she said, softly.
“You’re very welcome,
mademoiselle,” I said warmly, laughing.
She squinted past my shoulder, then. “I think your wife is calling you,” she said.
I turned, and the silhouette of my
wife lifted an arm and waved across the street.
I waved back, to let her know I’d be there soon. She turned and walked inside.
I looked towards Amelia again. The guilt of leaving weighed on me. I didn’t want this girl to be left again, to stand
shivering across the road, while I was grading papers in the cozy backroom of the
shop. Then I got an idea. “Say,” I said.
“Amelia, would you like to come warm up in my wife’s bakery? It’s awfully warm in there, and I bet I could
swipe you a few cookies. What do you
say?”
Her smile remained, but with a note
of sadness to it.
“You’ve shown me enough kindness,
sir. I only hope you continue to be this
kind, to not forget your kindness. And,
if it’s not too much of a burden, to remember me, and my many thanks to you.”
It was then that I noticed her
bell-like voice had a brittle edge. As
though, if she were to cough, the voice could shatter, and be lost. She was sick.
“Amelia! You’re not- dying, are
you?”
She didn’t answer. Just smiled and said, “Thank you, Mr.
Shepherd. Now go, please.”
My heart felt wrenched, but I
stood. Turned. And walked back to the bakery. Snowflakes began to flutter from the sky, and
the sun was just sinking under the distant buildings.
I turned one final time before
walking inside.
The next day, word got around that
the death of a child, Amelia Fawkes, had occurred at approximately 11:52
PM. Cause of death: hypothermia. Her coat was found cradling the baby of a
mother, living in a shack a few alleys away from her location. No sign of struggle was noted.
Hearing the news left me
stunned. I remembered Amelia’s wave
goodbye, as I turned to look at her for the final time. The snow, dancing at her palms. The faint light, fanning from her head. The star that appeared directly over her
form, beaming down.
Kindness
will live because of you. I won’t forget
you, Amelia Fawkes, I thought.
And to that day, countless years
ago, I haven’t.
****
Bio: Mariam Smith is a senior at Oldham County High School in Kentucky. She will be attending UofL during the fall of 2013, and hopes to explore the realm of writing and the English language. She attended the Governor's Scholars Program this past summer, and was involved in the focus area of creative writing.
