The Old Woman Who Became Young

Hana pedals.

The old woman sits on the back of the bicycle, a gray shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

The road is long, the night cool, and the wind tickles their hair.

The old woman hums an old tune under her breath.

Her voice is rough but gentle.

– “You know, little girl… sometimes a small kindness can make someone remember who they are…”

Hana doesn’t say anything. She just smiles.

Moonlight filters through the trees.

And each time it passes over the old woman’s face, the wrinkles fade.

Her skin smooths, her breathing lightens, her shoulders straighten.

The old woman sighs and gives a strange smile.

She’s no longer hunched.

Her hair is less white.

Her song now full of life.

When they arrive at the flower-filled house,

she’s not an old woman anymore.

A young woman steps off the bicycle.

Her clothes are the same, but their colors are fresher.

Her hair is braided, her smile calm.

Hana watches her in awe.

The young woman leans down, picks a flower from a pot, and hands it to Hana.

– “You brought me back to myself.

This house belonged to someone who waited for me for years.

Now I’m back…”

Hana smiles.

Takes the flower.

Turns the bicycle.

And with a warmer heart, rides into the rain and the road ahead…