I was sitting in the lobby of my doctor’s office on Wednesday, waiting for my physical therapist to call me back. As I was waiting, playing Words With Friends, naturally, a little girl bounded into the room with her dad, who had obviously just gone through therapy.
She said hello to everyone, told them all that she was five years old, and didn’t have to tell anyone that she was just a naturally happy child.
And then she came over and said hi to me.
Her dad stepped out to change, telling her she could talk to whoever she wanted (which, admittedly, surprised me a little), and she kept right on talking to me.
I learned that she’s an artist. She’s a singer. She’s a designer. And she doesn’t know which one she’s best at because she’s so good at all of them. But designing is her favorite.
And then she walked over to her bag and pulled out something that she’d made.
“This is for you,” she said.
“Are you sure?” I asked her. “Don’t you and your daddy want to keep it?”
“No. It’s for you.”
“Okay – tell me about it.”
And she pointed to each of the three people, telling me about them. That’s her, all the way on the right, with the very pretty bow in her hair. That’s me, in the middle, with the awesome blue pigtails. And that’s mommy on the left, holding a brush, because mommy brushes everyone’s hair.
Then she signed it, so I have a Naomi original.
Impromptu gifts from children are heartwarming because you know that they mean it. They’re still genuine in their intentions because they haven’t learned how not to be. And they still talk to everyone around them, because they believe in the goodness of people and haven’t had to learn that sometimes stranger equals danger.
It kind of makes me want to be five years old again – or at least act like it.