While browsing my phone outside the corner store, I saw a seven-year-old going across the parking lot. I thought he was hanging along, but he wasn’t.
The person he approached attracted my attention, not how little he looked in his scuffed sneakers.
Three police officers spoke and drank coffee near their cars. You know how people avoid them, especially here. But this boy? He stood up, chin raised, like he had something important to say.
I stopped scrolling.
My hearing was limited, but I noticed him gently tug on an officer’s sleeve. All looked down, shocked, and leaned in. The youngster folded his hands, closed his eyes, and—I swear—prayed aloud for them.
It was understated. It was unpracticed. Just a quiet voice stating something about keeping them secure, their families, and “being kind.”
An cop knelt beside him. Another rubbed his eye like something blew in. They appeared stunned. Like no one knew what to do.
Nobody came racing over to explain when I assumed his parents might.
Where the boy came from was unknown.
After the prayer, he thanked them, turned around, and left the lot at the far side, as if he had somewhere else to go.
I stood there thinking if I should follow, identify him, or help him.
Car doors banging took me out of my thoughts before I could move. The cops watched the boy disappear behind a row of automobiles from their position. They looked at each other as they were questioning, “What just happened?”
Walking around the building, I searched for the kid. Something about this brave little kid touched me. Maybe it was his loneliness or determination. Before I realized I was pursuing him, my feet started moving.
I noticed the back of his head as he crossed the roadway on the far side of the parking lot. A small heart lurched. Though traffic wasn’t bad, you never know. I sped up, shouting, “Hey, buddy—wait up!” But the child didn’t turn. He continued past a few adolescents and an older man holding a shopping cart.
I sped up and reached the curb after he crossed. I looked both ways, waited for a traffic break, then ran across. When I reached the next block, he was cutting into an alley. I had a hundred questions: Was this safe? Should I release him? But curiosity triumphed. Kept following.
I noticed him crouched close to a chain-link fence halfway down the alley. A slender cat rubbed its face against the metal links on the other side. Through the hole, the youngster stroked the cat’s head. Then I caught up, breathless.
“Hey,” I whispered to avoid startling him. You okay?
He turned, his big eyes examining me. He seems calm. Unlike most youngsters his age, he was calm. He wore a worn green shirt too big and knee-holed pants. Yes, those sneakers are worn.
“Hi,” he said, rising tall. He stared at me but said little.
This made me think I should introduce myself. “I’m Colin,” I said. “I saw you pray for those officers back there. It was brave.”
When he shrugged, it seemed normal. “I just wanted them to be safe,” he said. My name is Mateo.”
“Mateo,” I said. “Nice name. Are you alone? Are your parents aware?
He shook his head before I finished. Staying with my aunt. She’s working. I requested a walk. As long as I was visible, she agreed.”
I looked around. The alley was quiet. Not really “public,” but I thought he’d wandered off without realizing it. Kids do it. Something about his composure was odd. Even grownups become anxious in alleys, yet he was calm.
“Why pray for those cops?” Half curious, half attempting to figure him out, I asked.
He shrugged again, smiling slightly. Sometimes people don’t like them because they take care of others. “My dad was a policeman,” he said gently. “He taught me that being kind first can change how people see each other.”
My stomach tightened. Oh yes? Your dad still—?”
“No more.” His voice was steady but shaky. “He died last year.”
I was unsure what to say. I said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it.
Just nodding. “Thanks. So I pray for them. My dad was prayed for while on duty. It reduced his isolation.
I just knew part of this kid’s story, yet I felt warm. Praying for uniformed strangers made more sense. And it was stronger than expected.
It was quiet but for the cat meowing behind the fence. I pointed back at the street. “Walk together?” I requested. “I’ll get you back to your aunt’s, if you like.”
He nodded. We left the alley and rejoined the crowd. We turned left at the next crossing and walked past twisted power poles and faded graffiti. Mateo noticed smashed bottle tops on the ground and a wrinkled poster on a pole reporting a missing dog. Once, he straightened and smoothed the poster’s corners.
“You like caring for everyone, huh?” I asked, seeing the gesture.
He looked shyly at me. I just thought, “Why not do something small to help?”
I couldn’t disagree. Too many of us forget this simple principle. We get caught up in our cares and routines and ignore these small acts of kindness.
It drizzled as we walked. A gentle rain sprinkled our garments and shined the pavement. Mateo seemed unconcerned. He looked up like he was enjoying the chilly raindrops. I pulled my jacket about myself and followed him.
Someone called a name halfway down the next block. A female voice. “Mateo? Mateo!” She hurried along the sidewalk, concerned. I thought it was his aunt. Mateo looked up and waved.
He shouted “Aunt Rosa!” and sprinted the last few steps toward her. Her relief showed as she hugged him. She straightened and asked me when she saw me.
I extended my palms in greeting. My name is Colin. I saw him by the store and wanted to make sure he got home safely.”
Her gaze shifted from me to Mateo’s moist shirt. “I told you not to wander too far,” she gently admonished him, but her voice quiver with a dread only a mother would feel.
“I know,” Mateo responded. “But I was fine. I was doing something for my father.
That made her quiver, her eyes watering. She nodded to me in agreement. “Thank you for protecting him.”
The rain gently pattered about us as we stood there. Rosa invited me to go with them home, but I gently declined to avoid intruding. She led Mateo into an adjacent building with a modest, thankful smile. It appeared to be an older apartment building with flickering hallway lights. I saw the boy wave goodbye before leaving through the door.
I paused, feeling like I had left something more meaningful than I could describe. In a turbulent world, this boy showed kindness without expecting anything in return.
Retracing my steps to the corner store. The drizzle became a heavy rain, and I half-jogged with my hands in my pockets. I envisioned police officers telling their families about the weird little boy who prayed for them unexpectedly after the vehicles left. I almost saw them beaming from pure compassion.
Something was on the moist asphalt as I passed Mateo’s first sighting. Stooping down, I saw a little white card used for scribbles. Except for one child-scrawled sentence, it was blank:
“Make someone smile today.”
The words made me smile, recognizing they were Mateo’s. He may have dropped it accidently or left it intentionally. It felt like his farewell message, a great remembrance of his life.
I taped that card to my fridge at home. It remains, a modest reminder of what can happen when we choose kindness. This boy who lost his dad believed the world was worth caring about. He was not gullible. He thought a prayer, soothing word, or smile might make someone’s day.
When I’m cynical or stressed, I think about him. It reminds me that we can all demonstrate compassion in small ways that impact more than we know. Even a seven-year-old with worn sneakers understood that better than most.
You never know who needs that extra compassion or how much it means. Don’t miss an opportunity, no matter how little or unexpected. Someone’s perspective may alter because of you.
Perhaps the most important lesson is that good can come from ordinary people in ordinary places—like a parking lot on a rainy afternoon. It’s not about huge gestures or wealth. Use your words, presence, and compassion to show someone they matter. We can do it if a boy can.
That’s what life should be about—helping each other, giving hope, and reaching out—even to strangers. Mateo’s modest prayer moved hearts that day.
If this tale impacted you, please share, pass on, and like it. Continue the compassion chain. You never know who you’ll inspire or how far your kindness will go. Remember to make someone happy today. You’re powerful. Avoid wasting it.
