Lily was a quiet and innocent girl, no more than eight years old, with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair that framed her soft face. She lived in a small village nestled between rolling green hills. Her home was a quaint little cottage, where she lived with her grandmother, who grew the most beautiful flowers in the village.
Every morning, Lily would help her grandmother in the garden, watering the plants and picking the freshest flowers. Her favorite part of the day was when she was allowed to make small bouquets. She would carefully arrange the flowers in colorful bundles, tying them with ribbons her grandmother kept in a basket. She wasn’t just making bouquets; she was creating pieces of happiness, and she loved giving them away to people in the village.
One day, as she wandered through the village square, Lily noticed a new face—a sad-looking woman sitting alone on a bench, her eyes downcast. She clutched a tattered book in her hands, and her long black coat seemed to absorb all the sunlight around her.
Lily’s heart ached seeing the woman so sad. Without thinking twice, she ran back to her grandmother’s garden and picked the most beautiful flowers she could find—bright yellow daffodils, purple lavender, and a single red rose. She tied them together with a shiny pink ribbon and hurried back to the bench.
When she arrived, she shyly approached the woman and held out the bouquet.
“For you,” Lily said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The woman looked up, surprised by the gesture. Her sad eyes softened as she saw the flowers in Lily’s hands.
“These are for me?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
Lily nodded, smiling warmly. “Yes, they make people happy.”
The woman smiled—a small, fragile smile that grew brighter as she accepted the flowers. “Thank you, dear. You’ve made my day much better.”
Lily’s heart fluttered with joy. She waved goodbye and skipped off to continue her walk, knowing she had spread a little happiness that day. As she disappeared around the corner, the woman on the bench kept looking at the flowers in her lap, her sadness lifted by the innocent kindness of a little girl.
Lily didn’t know it then, but that small act of kindness was more powerful than she realized. The woman was a stranger to the village, passing through after losing her way in life. That simple bouquet reminded her of the beauty still left in the world, and that hope could be found in the smallest things—even in a handful of flowers offered by a little girl with a big heart.
As for Lily, she continued her days in the village, helping her grandmother with the garden, creating more bouquets, and spreading happiness wherever she went. And every now and then, she would think of the woman on the bench, hoping that wherever she was, the flowers had helped her find her way.
