It’s rare to encounter a sunny day in early spring in London. Yet, there it was—a brilliantly sunny day that, paradoxically, deepened my gloom. I’ve always found comfort in cloudy, rainy weather when I’m feeling down, as if the dreariness outside somehow soothes my inner turmoil.
I had just come back from school, dejected after a disastrous final presentation. I was certain I’d failed the unit. Having slept barely four hours a night for the past two weeks, I was utterly drained. On my way home, I instinctively took a longer, less familiar path. It wound around a lake, bordered by dense trees and underbrush—a perfect place for solitude, which I craved more than anything.
I couldn’t bear the thought of facing anyone. Doubts about my studies, my career, and my future swirled in my head. This project had been my first major challenge in my second year of design school, a stark leap from the first year’s simplicity. I started to wonder if I had made the right choice studying design.
I found a wooden bench hidden among the bushes, weathered to a hue that blended seamlessly with the surrounding brush. It was nearly invisible unless one passed it closely. Sitting there, a natural frame of plants, trees, and bushes formed a vista in front of me. The still water of the lake reflected the waning sunlight, and swans glided gracefully across my view. The wind occasionally altered the shape of this natural frame, only for it to settle back into place.
As I sat, lost in my thoughts that flickered like an old film projector, I hardly noticed the people passing by. Time seemed irrelevant. Suddenly, a pattern of footsteps approached from the distance, came close, then faded away, only to return and pause beside me. I didn’t look up or greet the newcomer.
A few moments later, a warm, gentle voice broke the silence. “Hey, everything alright?” I was too overwhelmed to meet her gaze, embarrassed by the tears in my eyes. She must have been out running, dressed in a fluorescent pink tank top and capri leggings. “Yes, I’m fine,” I lied, my voice shaky.
She didn’t seem put off by my curt reply. “You know, I have no idea what you’re going through, but I guess it must be tough. But remember, everything will be okay if there’s hope. There’s always a way.”
“Thank you,” I managed to say, appreciating her kindness yet unable to share my troubles. She said more, but those words faded into the backdrop of my weary mind. That encounter was five years ago.
In the end, she urged me to keep faith and trust in myself. When she said goodbye, I finally looked her in the eyes and said goodbye too. She had no real knowledge of my struggles, and her words didn’t solve my problems, but they imbued me with a newfound energy to forge ahead.
I sat a little longer, the scene unchanged yet somehow brighter. That brief interaction left a lasting warmth in my heart, a reminder of the power of simple human kindness. I never got her name and her face has blurred in my memory, but her compassion inspired me to pass on that kindness. Now, even years later, I cherish the warmth she gifted me that day.