I’ve always believed in being kind to people, including complete strangers. But what occurred with those twins taught me that even the smallest acts of kindness may result in unforeseen miracles.
Let me start from the beginning.
I’m a single mother to my wonderful daughter Emma. Being a mother brings me the greatest joy in life, and I’ve always strived to provide for her every need. I tried even harder after her father abandoned us five years ago.
That’s when I learned he was having an affair with a woman from his office. The divorce crushed me, but I knew I needed to be strong for Emma’s sake.
The first few months were very difficult.
Emma was only five years old and couldn’t comprehend why her world had abruptly shifted. Every evening, she would stand by the living room window, waiting for her father to return.
“When’s Daddy coming home?” she’d ask, her large brown eyes full of hope.
I’d take her in my arms and attempt to find the perfect words. “Sweetheart, sometimes grown-ups need to live in different houses.”
“But why, Mommy?” “Have I done something wrong?”
“No, baby, never.” I’d hug her tightly, holding back tears. “It has nothing to do with you. Daddy and Mommy can’t live together anymore, but we both love you very much.”
That last statement was not entirely accurate.
Her father made it obvious that he wanted nothing to do with us. He did not fight for custody or even seek visiting privileges. Sometimes, I believe that watching him walk away from our lovely kid, as if she meant nothing, was more painful than the affair.
However, life has a way of pushing you to be strong. I gathered up the pieces, worked additional shifts at work, and committed to providing Emma the best life possible.
We got into a comfortable rhythm. Emma, myself, and our cherished Labrador, Max, joined us.
Time passed by as I saw my daughter mature from a bewildered five-year-old to a very sophisticated and clever ten-year-old. Her unique perspective on the world is truly captivating.
Everything was finally coming into place. We had learned to survive without a guy in our life, and we no longer needed anybody else to make us happy.
A year ago, the diagnosis was made. Cancer.
That word landed like a bomb in the doctor’s office, and I felt my life crumble all over again. My beautiful child, who had already gone through so much, now faced the most difficult struggle of her life.
Each chemotherapy session depleted her energy, appetite, and wonderful spirit. But she remained stronger than me throughout it all.
Emma spotted me weeping in the hallway a few months back, following a particularly difficult day at the hospital.
“Mom,” she called, reaching for my hand. “Everything will be okay. “I promise.”
I looked at her in wonder. “How did you get so brave?”
She offered me a faint grin. “I learned from you.”
These words almost shattered me.
I should have been the one showing strength here. Instead, my tiny child comforted me.
Since then, I’ve done everything I can to keep her comfortable and happy, albeit such times grew increasingly rare as the treatments progressed.
That was the point in my life when everything changed.
It was a cold December evening, and I was taking Max for a stroll after work. The only sound in the woods near my house was the crunch of snow underfoot.
As I prepared to turn around, Max froze and perked his ears. Then, out of nowhere, he dashed into the woods.
“Max! “Come back!” I yelled, racing after him. As I moved away from the branches, something caught my eye, causing me to stop.
Two small girls sat on a fallen log, huddled together and dressed in lightweight sweaters and trousers despite the biting cold.
Their appearance was similar, with wide, terrified eyes and long, dark hair flecked with snowflakes.
“Hey there,” I murmured warily, my voice gentle. “Are you alright?” “Are you lost?”
Someone shook her head.
“No, we aren’t lost,” she said quietly. “We live nearby… in a shed.”
I recognized the shed they were talking about. It was an abandoned, deteriorating building on the outskirts of the woods.
“Where are your parents?” “Where are your parents?” I asked, stepping closer to avoid frightening them.
The second girl said, “Mama left us there… a long time ago.”
I stood there, heart pounding against my chest. I wanted to aid the little girls.
“What are your names?” I asked softly.
“I’m Willow,” stated the first twin.
“And I’m Isabelle,” her sister said, clutching Willow’s hand closer.
“How old are you both?”
“Nine,” they said in unison.
Max whimpered gently and nudged one of the girls’ hands with his nose. They smiled and patted his head.
I couldn’t leave them here alone. The temperature was rapidly decreasing, and the forecast warned of an impending storm.
I assumed social services would not be open until the morning. I suppose I should take them home.
“Come with me,” I said gently. “I’ll get you warm, and we’ll figure this out tomorrow.”
They exchanged glances, engaging in one of those nonverbal chats I’d heard twins had. Finally, they nodded and rose.
Back at home, I reheated some chicken noodle soup and covered them in warm blankets. They sat at my kitchen table and delicately spooned the soup into their mouths.
As I planned what to do in the morning, I prepared the guest room with fresh linens and extra blankets. Emma was sleeping, so I decided to wait until tomorrow to tell her everything. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing them.
The twins barely spoke as I escorted them to their room, but as I prepared to leave, I noticed them conversing.
“Goodnight, girls,” I replied, closing the door behind me.
That night, I lay awake for several hours, listening to the wind roar outside. I knew I should contact social services first thing in the morning, but something about these girls spoke to my heart.
Little did I know that the next day would deliver a surprise that would alter everything.
The following morning, I awoke to unusual noises coming from Emma’s room. I listened carefully and detected light thuds and muted chuckles.
What’s happening? I wondered. Is it the twins?
I felt a rush of panic as I imagined Emma’s reaction when she saw them. What if they terrified her? Or worse?
I rushed down the hallway and slammed the door open.
“What are you doing?!” “Do not touch her!” I yelled.
The twins stared at me with wide eyes. They stood at Emma’s bed, dressed in homemade costumes. They had wrapped my silk scarves around their shoulders like capes, and one of them was wielding a cardboard wand coated in aluminum foil.
Emma, however, brought me to a complete stop.
My daughter, who hadn’t smiled or laughed in months, was sitting up in bed, her eyes bright with happiness.
“Mom, look!” Emma giggled and pointed to the twins. “They are doing a magic show for me! Willow is the beneficial witch, and Isabelle is the fairy princess.
I wanted to weep at that moment.
I’d been seeing cancer sap my darling girl’s energies for over a year. Her vitality had been sapped by the therapies, and she rarely spoke on most days. I had begun to forget what her laugh sounded like.
“Mom, they made me a crown too!” Emma held aloft a paper crown adorned with crayon-drawn gems. “They say I’m the queen of the magical forest!”
“That’s… wonderful, sweetheart,” I managed to reply. “I—”
“We’re sorry for entering her room without your permission,” she stated. “We heard her coughing this morning and just wanted to check if she was okay.”
“She looked so sad,” Isabelle said gently. “Everyone requires magic when they are unwell. We used to share this knowledge with each other in the shed.
Emma’s clapping and laughter at their goofy dance movements brought tears to my eyes.
For months, I had done everything to cheer her up, but nothing worked. I was amazed at how these two small kids, who had so little themselves, somehow restored my daughter’s delight.
“Can they stay and finish the show, Mom?” Emma inquired, her cheeks flushed with eagerness. “Please? They promised to teach me how to make magic, too!”
I wiped my tears and nodded, my voice quivering as I added, “Of course they can, sweetheart.”
Over the next three days, something extraordinary occurred in our home. The twins spent every time they could with Emma, telling her tales, playing games, and devising elaborate performances.
On Christmas Eve, they put on their biggest spectacle ever. Emma, enthralled by their performance, pushed herself up in her special chair, wearing a blanket resembling a royal robe.
My heart was about to explode with delight as I stared from the doorway.
That night, after the girls had fallen asleep, I made a choice.
These twins brought sunshine to our darkest days. Even in the midst of her sickness, they restored Emma’s sense of childlike delight.
I made the decision to allow them to stay. I chose to adopt them.
It wasn’t easy, but nothing good is either.
Today, our family of two plus a dog has expanded to include two additional girls. Sometimes I reflect on that chilly December night and wonder at how close I came to strolling by that fallen log.
But Max knew. Somehow, he knew those girls belonged with us.