The Little Recorder Inside
One afternoon,
a four-year-old girl ran into the kitchen holding a picture she had just finished.
"Mom!"
"Look what I made!"
Her mother was busy.
Without looking up, she smiled and said,
"Not now, sweetheart."
The little girl nodded.
She walked away.
The drawing stayed on the table.
A few days later,
she spilled some milk.
"Oh..."
she whispered.
"I'm so clumsy."
No one had called her clumsy.
Not that day.
Years passed.
The little girl grew up.
She became thoughtful.
Hardworking.
Kind.
Whenever someone praised her,
she smiled politely.
Then quietly wondered
if they really meant it.
Whenever she made a mistake,
another voice answered first.
One day,
she found an old cassette recorder in a second-hand shop.
She pressed PLAY.
A familiar voice filled the room.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't angry.
It had simply been playing
for a very,
very
long time.
She wondered,
almost with surprise,
who had pressed RECORD.
She never found the answer.
But after that day,
every now and then,
when the old recording began to play,
she smiled.
And instead of reaching for the volume,
she simply listened.
A little more gently.
Is there a sentence
that has been quietly playing
inside you
for so long
that you've forgotten
it was only a recording?
