⏱ ~3 min reading
The kindergarten was preparing for a spring morning. The teacher, Olena Petrovna, gave the children roles: some were to dance, others to sing, and Sofiyka received a poem. A very small one, four lines long, about the sun and the snowdrop.
At home, Sofiyka learned it in one evening. She told it to her grandmother - exactly. She told it to the cat Barsik - exactly. She told it to the mirror in the hallway - also exactly.
But when mom said, "Now imagine that there's a full hall in front of you," Sophia's voice suddenly hid somewhere inside, like a little mouse under a closet.
"I can't," whispered Sofiyka. "My stomach is cold.".
Mom sat down next to me. Mom had a soft shoulder and smelled of Mom's perfume—a little vanilla, a little spring flowers.
"You're the one who's worried.".
"What if I forget the words?"
"Then you'll say what you remember. Or you'll just keep quiet and keep talking. Or you'll smile.".
"What if I pay?"
"Then I'll wipe your tears. I'll be in the auditorium. In the third row, on a chair by the aisle. You'll be able to see me.".
Sofiyka sighed. She pressed herself against her mother's shoulder.
The next morning, Sofiyka put on a festive white dress with lace, a bow in her braid as pink as a petal. She took a small plush bunny with her — Elena Petrovna allowed the children to bring something of their own in their pockets, to show courage.
The auditorium smelled of fresh paint and spring tulips. Paper butterflies hung from the ceiling. Chairs for parents stood in rows. Sofiyka peeked behind the curtain—the hall was full. Lots of people. Lots of strange eyes.
Sofiyka's knees trembled slightly.
"Girls and boys," said Elena Petrovna in a quiet voice. "Everything will be fine. You are all good. I believe in each of you.".
The dancers were the first to perform. Then the choir sang. Then Marinka came out with a poem about her mother — her voice trembled slightly, but she finished reading.
“Sofiya,” Elena Petrovna called. “It’s your turn.”.
Sofiyka squeezed the bunny in her pocket. Soft. Warm. Her own.
She stepped out into the middle of the stage. There was a sea of faces in front of her. Everything got mixed up. Sofiyka didn't see her mother right away. Her heart was pounding in her ears, like a drum. The words got lost somewhere.
Sofiyka took a breath. She looked down at her white shoes. She thought: "I can do it. Even though I'm shaking, I can do it.".
She looked up. And suddenly she saw her mother. In the third row, near the aisle. Her mother was smiling and nodding softly, as if to say, "I'm here. I'm with you.".
Sophie took another breath.
— Spring has come, — she said. Her voice was thin, but her own. — And the sun on the branch. A small snowdrop broke through the ground. It said: «I am the first!» — and smiled white. And the sun quietly embraced it with warmth.
Sofiyka finished. There was silence for a second, and then the audience applauded. Loudly. Warmly. Someone shouted, «Bravo!» — it must have been someone’s dad.
Sofiyka blinked her eyes. She bowed, as Elena Petrovna had taught her. And quickly, quickly, she turned back behind the curtain.
There, Elena Petrovna hugged her.
"Well done, Sofiyka. I saw you get a little scared, but you came out anyway. That's what true courage is.".
After breakfast, mom met Sofiyka with a bouquet of tulips — yellow like little sunbeams.
"I was shaking, Mom.".
— I saw it.
— And she said it anyway.
"And I saw it too. And that's the most important thing.".
On the way home, Sofiyka walked next to her mother, holding tulips and quietly repeating her poem to herself. Now he was not hiding. Now he knew that Sofiyka was braver than she had thought of herself yesterday.
💡 Courage is when you tremble, but still take a step forward.