Love and Care

The evening light was beginning to fade. A soft golden hue spread across the edge of the sky, as if the day was preparing for its final farewell. In a quiet corner of a small town stood an old house walls flaking with worn out paint, wooden railings slowly decaying. Yet, the house carried a silent kind of charm. There lived Rahim Uncle, all by himself. He was nearly seventy, with white hair, thick glasses, and an old novel always in hand.

Rahim uncle had lost his wife many years ago. His children lived abroad doing well in their jobs, calling him now and then, but never able to spare the time to visit. He never complained. He understood they were busy. Still, his days passed slowly, accompanied only by books, a box of old letters, and a boy who came to visit him every afternoon .

He lived next door. He was in tenth grade. At first, he only came by to ask questions about his schoolwork. Gradually, a beautiful bond formed between them. Now, he showed up almost every day sometimes reading books aloud, sometimes chatting, and sometimes simply sitting quietly beside Rahim Uncle.

That evening too, he arrived. He found Rahim Uncle on the porch, but he looked a little downcast.

Uncle, why didn’t you eat anything this afternoon? really hungry, Rahim Uncle replied with a faint smile.

Are you okay?

Nothing serious. Just feeling a bit low.

He could tell that this sadness wasn’t physical it was something deeper. Without saying anything, he sat beside him. He took out a small piece of chocolate from his bag.

My teacher gave this today. Here, you eat it.

Rahim Uncle smiled gently,

You’re giving me your treat?

When you care about someone, you share with them winked.

Rahim Uncle accepted the chocolate. For a moment, his mind drifted back years to when his own son used to share things like this after coming home from school.

You know, your visits are the best part of my day?

I actually come to learn from you, Uncle. I wouldn’t know so much if it weren’t for you.

And without you, I’d have forgotten much of what life is

Another one is

The Blanket,

In a quiet village nestled between green hills, lived an elderly woman named Amma and her young grandson, Rafi. Since the day Rafi was born, Amma had cared for him with gentle hands and a fierce heart. His parents, taken by an accident years ago, had left him in her care.

Every morning, Amma would prepare warm rice porridge, braid Rafi’s hair, and walk him halfway to school. In return, Rafi would gather wildflowers for her on his way home, always giving the brightest one first.

One winter, Amma fell ill. Her hands, once busy in the kitchen and garden, now trembled under layers of quilts. Rafi, only ten, took charge. He learned to cook porridge, though it was often too thick or too salty. He read her stories from the torn books they’d shared, stumbling over the longer words. Most importantly, every night, he wrapped her in the old wool blanket she had knitted years ago threadbare now, but still warm with love.

One evening, a neighbor found Rafi stitching at the edge of the blanket by candlelight. "Why not buy a new one? she asked.

Rafi looked up and said, This blanket has Amma’s love in it. If I fix it, it can