There was a palpable excitement among everyone at the home—“Wisdom Week,” as they referred to it.
Every resident received a whiteboard, a marker, and a single question: “What advice would you offer to the younger generation?”
The majority of the notes were delightful. Clear and straightforward. Expressions such as “Consume your vegetables” or “Wed your closest companion.” And then came Alice.
At 94 years old, she remains as sharp as ever, still styling her hair each morning and applying that precise shade of rose lipstick. With a proud smile, she raised her sign high.
“Wear a smile, and the world will reflect it back to you.”
The staff were visibly moved. A photo was snapped by someone. All present applauded.
As the picture concluded and the board was lowered, Alice leaned in closer and whispered softly, “That’s not the entire truth, naturally.”
I gazed at her.
She smiled once more—but it was a distinct kind. Reduced. More melancholic.
“At times, the world returns a smile, and at other moments,” she murmured, “it simply watches until you cease.”
I was at a loss for words. I simply nodded.
She then reached into the pocket of her cardigan, retrieved a folded letter—creased at the edges as if it had been opened countless times—and handed it to me.
“Peruse it in solitude,” she advised. “It’s from the one individual who truly witnessed my genuine smile.”
Later that night, in my small apartment illuminated by a flickering overhead light, I gently unfolded the letter. The paper had a subtle scent of lavender, reminiscent of Alice, and featured tidy handwriting in blue ink. It started abruptly:
Dear Alice,
I’ve taken up beekeeping, and you won’t believe it!
I took a brief moment to reflect, questioning whether I had misinterpreted something. Are there bees? However, I continued to read.
I understand your curiosity: what could possibly motivate someone like me to pursue such an unusual hobby? Perhaps it’s because it brings you to mind. You constantly flit about, adding a touch of sweetness to the lives of those around you, regardless of their worthiness. Let’s be honest—you possess a strength that many may not fully appreciate. Similar to those tiny beings.
The tone was inviting and lighthearted, yet there was a subtle depth lurking beneath the surface. With my interest aroused, I moved on to the next paragraph.
Alice, I need to share something with you. A significant event. From the moment we met, I found you to be stunning—not solely because of your smile, which certainly captured my attention immediately, but for every aspect of who you are. Your laughter, your compassion, your tenacious spirit. All things. As time passed, I came to understand that it wasn’t merely your charm that captivated me. I found myself falling in love with each and every one of you.
My heart raced with excitement. This was not merely a casual note; it was a proclamation. A revelation. Who has the ability to craft something so genuine and deeply felt for Alice?
The correspondence went on.
However, the reality is that I have experienced fear. Not from you, never from you. About myself. I worried that I might not meet your expectations. I was concerned that I might inadvertently cause problems. Rather than expressing my feelings, I chose to remain silent. I observed you from a distance, supporting you while feigning indifference to my deeper desires. Feigning that I required nothing further.
What comes next? I am compelled to express this because I can no longer maintain the facade. If you are open to it, I would like to give it a try. To observe the direction this takes. To explore the possibility of creating something collaboratively. Something genuine.
It lacked a signature, with no name inscribed at the bottom. Merely a brief note jotted down quickly in the corner:
P.S. Do you recall that summer picnic by the lake? The moment you stumbled and plunged right into the water? I found myself laughing to the point of tears. Do you recall what transpired afterward? You rose to your feet, drenched, and flashed a smile at me as if nothing could dampen your spirits. At that moment, I realized. Alice, you are truly unstoppable. Always keep that in mind.
I remained seated, gazing at the words well beyond the completion of my reading. Who could this enigmatic admirer be? Did Alice know who authored it? Did she reciprocate their feelings? The questions danced in my mind like leaves caught in a gentle wind.
The following morning, I returned to see Alice. She sat in her familiar place by the window, knitting a scarf that appeared to be endlessly long already. Upon my entrance, she looked up and offered me a knowing glance.
“Well?” she inquired, placing her needles down. “Have you had a chance to read it?”
“Indeed,” I conceded, drawing the chair nearer. “But… who sent it?”
Alice paused for a moment, not responding. She lifted her tea cup, took a slow sip, and placed it back down gently. She let out a sigh.
“His name was Walter,” she murmured gently. “He was employed at the library located in the downtown area.” Our paths crossed while I was volunteering there amidst the war—cataloging books and organizing shelves. He was inexperienced, just graduated from college, and utterly lost when it came to filing. I felt compassion for him and guided him through the process.
Her lips formed a nostalgic smile.
“Initially, we formed a friendship.” Great companions. He would bring me coffee during breaks, and I would playfully tease him about his glasses slipping down his nose. As time passes… Her voice faded, and her eyes wandered to the window. As time passed, my aspirations began to grow. However, he remained silent. Not a single time.
“So… was this letter sent before or after the war concluded?” I inquired with care.
“After,” she responded. “At that point, I had lost all hope.” I assumed he didn’t share the same feelings. One day, however, a letter arrived in the mail. Suddenly.
“What actions did you take?” I applied gentle pressure.
Alice let out a chuckle, tinged with a hint of sadness. “I felt a surge of panic.” I was at a loss for words, uncertain if I should speak up or remain silent. When I finally gathered the courage to reply, it was already too late. Walter had joined the military. Departed abroad.
Her voice wavered a bit, and she took a moment to clear her throat before proceeding.
“He passed away three months later.” Never returned home.
The room became quiet, with only the soft hum of the radiator breaking the stillness. A lump formed in my throat, leaving me uncertain of how to reply. At last, I found the courage to inquire, “What made you hold onto the letter?”
Alice inclined her head, pondering the question. “It brought to mind two things,” she remarked. “First, that love—genuine love—is worth embracing risks for. Even if it frightens you. Furthermore…” She paused for a moment, then continued, “Even if the world doesn’t always return your smile, it occasionally offers moments that are truly worth cherishing.” Instances reminiscent of Walter.
As I departed from the nursing home that evening, Alice’s words resonated in my thoughts. Love, risk, resilience—they had transformed into tangible realities. They were strands intricately intertwined in her narrative, defining the woman she had evolved into. Her bright demeanor was not merely a disguise; it was a shield shaped by grief and desire. Yet within that armor lay a heart that would not harden, opting instead to remain open, hopeful, and alive.
I paused at a quaint park nearby before making my way home. As I sat on the bench, I took out my phone and composed a message to an old friend—a bond I had allowed to diminish over time. A person I held in high regard, yet I found myself too hesitant to make contact. As I pressed send, I recalled Alice and her whiteboard.
Perhaps a smile truly brings light to the world, even when it doesn’t receive a smile in return. In our efforts and in our willingness to take risks, we generate ripples that reach far beyond our own existence. Isn’t that the essence of life?
If Alice’s story touched your heart, consider sharing it with someone who may need a reminder that love and courage are intertwined. And remember to like—it could encourage them to take a leap of faith as well.