What I Thought I Gave Away… Came Back to Me in a Way I Never Expected
I didn’t think much of it at first. It was late autumn last year when I sat on the floor of my daughter’s room, surrounded by small sweaters, tiny socks, and floral dresses that no longer fit her growing body. My mother had just passed away; grief sat heavy in my chest, and cleaning, sorting—giving things away—felt like the only way to breathe a little.
So I boxed them up. Took a photo. Posted online:
“Free children’s clothing, size 2–4.
Just pay postage.”
Dozens replied, but one message lingered on the screen. “My name is Nura. I just left a difficult situation with my daughter.
We don’t have much. I can’t pay the postage now… but I’ll send it when I can. If not, I understand.”
I hovered over the delete button.
I was tired. Emotionally drained. I didn’t want another burden to carry.
But then I imagined a little girl, cold, wearing clothes too thin for winter. I imagined a mother, maybe as lost as I felt. So I wrote back two words:
“Send me your address.”
The next morning, I mailed the package.
No tracking. No expectation. I didn’t think about it again.
A Year Later — A Knock at My Door
By the time spring came around this year, life had settled into quiet routines. My grief didn’t scream anymore—it whispered. Then, one ordinary Tuesday, a parcel appeared on my doorstep.
No sender’s name. Inside, carefully folded, were the exact same dresses and sweaters I had sent—cleaner than I had given them, neatly ironed, tied with blue ribbon. Beneath them lay a small crocheted yellow duck.
My breath caught. That duck. I hadn’t seen it in years.
It was from my own childhood—a gift from my mother. Somehow, unknowingly, it must’ve slipped into the donation box. My hands trembled as I unfolded the note:
*“You gave these clothes when I had nothing.
I promised I would return them when I could stand on my own two feet again. They kept my daughter warm through winter. I found this little duck at the bottom of the box.
I knew it must’ve meant something to you. I waited until I could return it properly. Thank you—for your kindness when no one else saw me.”*
— Nura
I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears touched the paper.
The Call
The note included a phone number. My fingers shook as I dialed. She answered on the second ring.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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