⏱ ~3 min reading
On Tuesday, Sofiyka came home from school and sat down at her small table by the window. On the table were colored paper, scissors, pencils, and glue. There was no homework for tomorrow.
Sofiyka looked out the window. It was drizzling outside. Droplets were running down the glass, each in its own path.
Suddenly Sofiyka thought about Olya. Olya was her friend from the first grade. Olya was a little sad today. Because her dog Bima was sick, lying on a blanket at home. Sofiyka saw Olya sitting alone by the window during recess and not talking to anyone.
«I'll make her a card,» Sofiyka suddenly thought.
Not because it's a holiday. Not because it's a birthday. Just because.
Sofiyka took the pink paper. Folded it in half. Cut a semicircle on top - and it turned out a beautiful arch, like a house.
Then she took a white pencil and drew a small dog on a pink background — just like Bima. With brown spots, with a protruding tongue. She signed it: "Bima, get well.".
Inside the postcard, Sofiyka wrote in the smoothest letters she could:
«"Olechka! I love you. Bima will get better. I want you to smile. Your Sofiyka.".
She looked at her creation. Something was missing. Sofiyka took the sparkles - a small box that her grandmother had given her for New Year. She sprinkled them around the edges. It sparkled.
Then Sofiyka took a sticker from the drawer - a small heart. She stuck it on the bottom. Now it was perfect.
"Mom!" Sofiyka called out. "Can I take it to Olya?"
Mom peeked out of the kitchen, where she was baking something.
"Now? It's already dark.".
— Well, there's still a little light. And Olya is nearby - two houses.
"Go ahead. Just put on your jacket," he mumbles.
Sofiyka ran. The postcard lay in her hand like something precious. She carried it carefully so as not to crumple it.
When Sofiyka rang the bell, Olya's mother opened the door.
"Sophie? What happened?"
— I'm Oli. Please give me.
Olya peeked out from behind her mother's back. In a knitted sweater, with teddy bear socks on her feet.
"Sofia? Are you here?"
— On.
Sofiyka held out a postcard. Olya took it. She looked at it. Her eyes became round, and then they sparkled.
— Is this for me?
— To you.
— What?
— Just like that.
Olya looked at the card for a long time. She held it with both hands. She ran her finger over the sparkles. She laughed when she saw Bima with her tongue out.
— It's definitely her!
The real Bima peeked out from behind her mother's shoulder. Her tail was barely moving, but it was still moving.
"You see," Olya whispered, "she's happy too.".
Sofiyka stood there for a while. Then she said:
"I'll go. I just wanted you to smile.".
— I smile. I smile a lot.
When Sofiyka walked home through the drizzle, her jacket was wet, and her shoes were dripping wet. But she was warm. Because at home, Olya probably attached the postcard to the window. Or to the pillow. Or put it on the table to see before going to bed.
A day later at school, Olya ran up to Sofiyka during recess.
"I didn't let go of your postcard all evening yesterday. Dad said I even slept with it. Bima has also become more lively. Dad says it's because of the warmth. And I think it's because of the postcard too.".
Sophie laughed.
"Probably from the postcard and the heat. It's the same thing.".
The girls held hands and ran on. And Sofiyka thought: do you know what's good about a gift without a reason? That you don't expect it. And from that joy is like the first snow. Quiet, light, real.
💡 It's not the holiday that makes joy, but the heart.