To dare

Yesterday, after school, we stopped with Pa and E in the Old Town.
We wandered toward the place that sells warm waffles and welcomes visitors with long noses full of curiosity.

The streets of Vilnius Old Town, warm despite the evening chill of early autumn, smelled of coziness.
Turning down a tiny alley, the pleasant sound of an accordion reached our ears.

We paused for a moment.
The clatter of footsteps on the cobblestones and the cheerful bustle of passersby blended perfectly with the street musician’s notes.

I fished a coin from my wallet and held it out toward Pa.
She lifted her big eyes:
“Maybe he doesn’t want the coin at all?” she hesitated.
“I don’t know what to say when we get there.”
“What if the coin needs to go somewhere else than where you’re showing me?”
“What if he asks me something?”

So we stood in the street for a few minutes while I answered her questions with encouraging responses.

Finally, she gathered courage and stepped forward.
As she approached, the musician paused his accordion.
I could see that he was following Patricija’s little quiz of questions and her hesitant fidgeting with the coin in her hand.

Pa stopped.
Then he smiled at her warmly:
“Thank you, little one, for your kind heart,” said the old man.
“And thank you even more,” he added, “for being brave.”

On the way back, I felt joy at the small good deed accomplished.
And I thought to myself that we adults are probably no different from children.

Often, we don’t dare
to brighten someone’s day.
With a kind word.
A small, harmless act of help.
A flower that “doesn’t cost a cow.”
Or maybe a bun bought from the bakery—
to silently say, “thank you” or “you matter to me.”

We hesitate, fearing we won’t finish our “daily” tasks,
or that we might
be misunderstood.

Or maybe it’s all in vain?

Mua,
V.