The Scratch

It was supposed to be a quick stop.
We would run into the shop.
Buy a few things.
Have a light meal at the café.
And off we would go.

But as soon as my daughter
opened the car door…
I didn’t know if my plan was still going to play out
the way I had initially intended.

The door had swung open
right into the minivan parked next to us.

The scratch was tiny.
Barely visible… If you knew where to look.
And I had a feeling that the owner probably
wouldn’t even notice it.
But it was there.

“Alright.
We would have to have lunch first.”
I thought to myself.

We chose our table by the window.
So that I could eye that minivan
like a hawk.
And when I saw someone finally approaching it,
I darted towards them.

The owner was an elderly man.
And looked quite serious.
I must admit I was slightly scared of sharing
my news with him.
Of the reaction I might get.

Would he scream at me?
Would he shame or guilt me?

I had no idea.
All I knew was that my conscience wouldn’t leave me alone, if I didn’t tell him the truth of what had happened.

So I did.
I knocked on his window.
And explained the situation.

He got out of his car.
Looked at the scratch.
And… Smiled!

“Look, this car is covered in scratches all over…
Here and there…” he started pointing them out.

“Another tiny one doesn’t matter. It truly doesn’t matter. You don’t need to worry about it,” he reassured me.

“But thank you for coming here and telling me.
That I really appreciate.”

Then he looked at me with his kind eyes.
And got back into his car.

And that was it.

No screaming. No shaming.
Just human kindness.

A superpower that lives
within all of us.

With love,
E.