Over the next few weeks, Clara and I stayed in touch. We met for coffee once, then again, and soon it became a regular, weekly meeting. Sometimes Mia would join us; sometimes it was just the two of us. We talked about everything: life, struggles, hopes, dreams, and the challenge of putting big dreams on hold.
I learned that Clara had once studied design in college but had stopped after Mia was born. She had always cherished a dream of opening a little shop that sold handmade crafts and custom, thoughtful gifts. But, as she said, life got in the way.
“Did what?”
“Tried again. Opened the shop. I could start small. Online.”
I saw the hopeful fire that had been buried for years finally return to her face. “Then let’s do it,” I encouraged her.
We spent the next few months working together to build her a small online store. I used my organizational skills to help with the website layout, and she focused on making her beautiful creations: hand-painted mugs, neatly embroidered tote bags, and wonderful homemade candles with creative names like “Rainy Morning” and “Mia’s Mischief.”
The success wasn’t instant, but it was steady. A few sales trickled in, and then a few more. Clara’s entire attitude changed. She stood taller, smiled more often, and looked happier. Even Mia started happily calling herself the “assistant manager” and wrote charming little notes to include in each shipped package.
Then came the turning point. A popular local social media influencer ordered one of Clara’s mugs. She posted about it online, and virtually overnight, Clara’s store exploded with orders from across the entire country. Soon after, a local news outlet ran a story on her success: Single Mom Turns Hobby into Heartfelt Business After Stranger’s Act of Kindness.
The Funny Way Life Works
That’s when an unexpected twist occurred.
I got a phone call from someone I hadn’t spoken to in over a year: my ex-partner, Daria. We had split up on difficult terms. She had often criticized me for being “too soft,” saying I wasted time on “people who weren’t my problem.” But she had seen the news story about the growing business.
“Kind of. It was more about Clara,” I explained.
“You always did stuff like that. I didn’t get it then. I think I do now,” she admitted.
I didn’t really know what to say to that. But it didn’t truly matter. I had changed, too.
Fast forward one year from the cake incident. Clara’s small business had now grown enough to have its own physical location, tucked neatly between a lovely flower shop and a cozy bookstore. She had hired two part-time employees and was proudly teaching Mia how to run the cash register on the busy weekends. Continue reading…
