Dumplings for a Cure

“Lizzyyyy….,” said Marie, twisting her chair around. “I thought I told you to get new shoes,” Marie says. Lizzy looks down at her shoes, caked with dirt and grime, broken from the hours she spent working on her family’s farm. “But I don’t have anything else to wear,” said Lizzy. “Awww,” Marie pouts sarcastically, “Little Lizzy has no other shoes to wear.” “How sad,” said Marie. “Guess we’ll have to put up a charity for poor Little Lizzy, laughed Marie, her friends piling up behind her.

Day after day, I watch as Lizzy is crushed to pieces by Marie and her friends. All at a distance. I didn’t dare to get any closer for fear that Marie and her friends would turn to me. I sighed, watching as Lizzy’s bottom lip began to tremble and big drops of tears formed in her hazel eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. I wanted so badly to help her, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

After school was over, I came home to Mom stirring the batter for dumplings. “Hey, Bailey,” Mom said. “We’re having dumplings for dinner.” “Cool,” I said, pulling up a chair to watch as Mom sprinkled more flour into the dough. 

“You’re quieter than usual. Something on your mind?” asked Mom. “It’s this girl in my class,” I said, “Lizzy. She’s always getting bullied by this mean girl, Marie. Today, Marie made fun of her shoes and made her cry.” “Well, does anyone help her?” asked Mom. I looked down at the soles of my shoes. “No,” I whispered, “She’s bullied every day. No one consoles her or does anything for her.” The blending of the dough batter in Mom’s bowl was the only sound as Mom and I sat together in silence. I watched as Mom blended the materials, the mixture becoming thicker and less sticky. 

After Mom was done blending the dough, I expected her to start filling the dumplings. Instead, she grabbed a little bottle with no label, opened it, and poured it into the bowl. “What’s that?” I asked, confused. “You’ll see,” said Mom with a smile dotting her lips. The new ingredient made the mixture stickier, like rice dough balls. “Bailey, how about this. I want you to bring a batch of dumplings to Lizzy after school,” said Mom. “But why? She eats dumplings every night just like our family,” I said. “Lizzy might eat the same things we do, but trust me, these dumplings are special,” Mom said. “I can’t. I don’t want to be like her,” I said. “Trust me, Bailey,” said Mom, bringing up her pinky finger, “Promise you’ll do this for me.” I nodded, reluctantly swearing on it with my pinky finger, not wanting to argue.

The next day, I brought the dumplings to Lizzy at recess. She was sitting on the curb of the playground by herself, the same worn shoes peeking out of her blue jeans. “These are for you,” I said, handing her the dumplings. “Why?” asked Lizzy, confused. I shrugged. I sat down beside Lizzy on the curb and watched as she took her first bite. At first, there was nothing. But then, tears began welling up in Lizzy’s eyes. Different tears this time. “What does it taste like?” I ask, curious. “Kindness,” says Lizzy, "It tastes like kindness.”

-

No one’s kind to anyone anymore. 

No one feels the need to go out of their way to be nice to someone.

Kindness has been virtually annihilated from the world.

We’re hyper-fixated on screens, the current trends,

anything but being kind to others.

It takes nothing to be kind.

To lend a helping hand,

to look someone in the eye and tell them that it’s okay.

It takes nothing to be kind.

We must not feel scared.

Don’t climb into that shell of yours, for there are people who need care.

A smile, a simple compliment, or a small goodbye is all someone needs.

Kindness gives, not takes.

It’s like food for some, water for others.

It’s the ingredient to combat the hate in the world today.

It works in every recipe.

Kindness is the cure for a better today and tomorrow.