What Could I Do Differently?

What could you do differently?

Once, my teacher’s DVD player froze

during listening practice.

She asked for help.

I stepped in.

Pressed a button.

It froze forever.

The class laughed.

I might have broken something.

But for a moment,

everyone smiled.

Since then,

I’ve learned:

sometimes the difference

is not fixing,

it’s staying kind

when things go wrong.

And I still practice that.

⸻

Once, walking down the street,

someone asked me for directions.

I pointed toward a hill

I didn’t even know existed.

I hope he made it home.

I hope I’m not cursed.

Now, when I don’t know the way,

I say it out loud.

And I still try to point

with care.

⸻

Once, someone asked me,

“How are you?”

I said,

“I’m fine.

Taking wine.

Better not to ask time.

My broken watch shows

half past nine.”

A girl in the park laughed.

She walked up.

We exchanged IDs.

Since then,

I answer differently.

Not perfectly.

But honestly enough

to let a moment breathe.

And I still do that.

⸻

Once, I met a man in his fifties,

wearing an orange robe,

barefoot,

his face glowing

like it knew something I didn’t.

I asked him for a coffee.

He stopped.

Looked at me.

Smiled.

Thanked me

for asking.

The difference

is not the drink.

It’s the pause.

The permission to be human together.

Now, when I meet strangers,

I don’t rush past their light.

I invite it to sit with me.

⸻

Once, on a bus,

my favorite music playing,

heater on,

world soft and warm,

an elderly woman with a dog,

and a mother with a child,

stood there.

The bus was full.

I stood up.

“Please, take my seat.”

That moment taught me

comfort is lighter

when shared.

So now,

I stand more easily.

⸻

These aren’t stories

about what I did.

They’re lessons

about how I live.

So now,

no matter who approaches me,

I carry

a smile,

an understanding heart,

and ears that listen.

Nothing to prove.

Nothing to take.

Nothing to fake.

Just showing up

a little more awake

than before.

And yes,

I’m still doing it.