A tired woman carrying a baby and a large bag boarded, but no one offered her a seat. Despite my aching back, I stood and gave her mine. She looked at me oddly, too worn to speak. As the tram moved, I saw her soothing the baby. At her stop, she glanced at me again and left.
Soon after, I found something wet in my bag. Inside was a damp cloth bundle and a note: “Thank you for your kindness. I have nothing to give but this charm my grandmother gave me for protection. I hope it brings you and your baby safety.” The wetness was just rain. The charm was a small wooden figure of a mother and child.
Tears came as I understood her look of gratitude. I held the charm to my belly and vowed to always choose compassion, even in an uncaring world.