Off The Record

I Found A Hungry Little Girl Sitting Alone In The Park—And Realized Our Meeting Was No Accident

Published on November 21, 2025

I noticed a young child sitting by herself in the dark as I was making my way home with groceries. She requested nourishment from me, but she was in need of something far more profound. We had no idea that we were going to save one another.

I’m Kate, and I’m 39 years old. I’m young enough to feel the anguish resurface when you least expect it, yet old enough to have experienced the kind of suffering that remains silent in the backdrop of your life.

In a neighbourhood where most people keep to themselves, I live alone in a tiny flat in the northern part of town. In this type of neighbourhood, you can go years without knowing the name of your neighbour. I am employed in a nearby bookshop. It’s a calm career that complements my tranquil lifestyle. That’s fine with me for now.

This wasn’t always me. I used to yearn for something more than myself, something that was greater than myself.

Being a mother was everything I ever desired. That was the dream, steady and uncomplicated, like the sound of a lullaby or the smell of warm clothes. Mark, my husband, and I pursued it for years. We tried everything, including medication, doctor after doctor, and fertility treatments. We had multiple IVF procedures. I even took a plane to Arizona to visit a holistic facility that a buddy recommended.

I poked myself with needles and drank harsh tea. I made dietary changes, took supplements, and completely redesigned my way of life. I would have done the same if someone had advised me that it would be beneficial to stand on one foot during a full moon.

The same terrible cycle played out each month: hope, lengthy wait, and heartbreak.

On those evenings when the grief felt like it might crush me, Mark would hold me in bed. Like a child, I would mumble prayers into the dark while sobbing into a pillow to keep the neighbours from hearing.

As time went on, however, we began to drift apart. Where there had been laughing, there was now silence as the spark went out. He claimed that he couldn’t bear to see me spiral out of control and that I was obsessed. He said it plain and cold one night.

“I can’t do this anymore, Kate.”

Then he disappeared.

The man I loved was gone. I could taste the future I had so vividly imagined, and it was gone.

I believed that all of my tears had already been shed. But for some reason, the silence that followed his departure hurt far more than all those tearful nights.

A year ago, that was. I’ve been moving forward ever since. simply making it through each day.

On this particular evening, none of that was actually on my mind. Not deliberately, anyhow.

It was one of those cool autumn evenings when everything seemed a bit softer. The light was softer, the air was lighter, and even your own footsteps sounded softer. The smell of wood smoke and damp leaves filled the air. It was the sort of night that brought back memories of lost melodies and bonfires from childhood.

I was walking the final few streets home after getting off the bus at work. The light grocery bag swung softly on my hip. Bread, soup, a can of beans, and a doughnut that I didn’t need but couldn’t resist were among the necessities that were inside.

When I spotted her, I was considering reheating up that soup and possibly watching some awful reality TV.

A young girl is seated by herself on the bench close to the corner store.

She was no older than seven. Eight, perhaps, but even that seemed excessive.

She was small. Her thick brown hair looked like it hadn’t been properly brushed in days because it was knotted and a bit too long. As though it were too heavy for her, her rucksack dangled over one shoulder. Her legs failed to touch the floor. They simply swung slowly and uncertainly back and forth, as if she was undecided whether to run or remain motionless.

I didn’t intend to slow down. There’s something about her that just… pulled at me.

I took a stride towards her and dropped to my knees at eye level.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said softly. “Are you okay? Where’s your mum?”

My heart twisted as she looked up. Her large brown eyes were too serious for her petite face. She took a deep breath before speaking.

She added, “Mommy left this morning,” “She didn’t come back.”

She didn’t cry, but her voice faltered a little. She just appeared worn out, the kind of weariness unrelated to sleep.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Then she said it again, hardly raising her voice above a whisper.

“Do you have something to eat?”

I blinked.

“Something to… oh.”

I raised my shopping bag.

“I think I might.”

I took the doughnut out of the bag after opening it. Even through the paper bag, it remained warm.

I said, “Here, honey,” “It’s not much, but it’s sweet.”

She held it in both hands as though it were a priceless item. Then she ate it so quickly that it hurt my chest.

I enquired, “Do you have a phone?” “Or maybe you know your address? We can try to call someone?”

Her hair brushed her cheeks as she gave a brief shake of her head.

“No, Mommy said she’d be back soon.”

Slowly, I nodded.

“Okay. Can I wait with you until she comes back?”

She paused. then gave a nod.

She said, “You can wait, but please don’t call the police.”

I furrowed my brow.

“Why not, sweetheart?”

There was almost a fear in her eyes.

“Because they’ll take Mommy away. And me too.”

She gripped her rucksack more tightly, as if it were her sole source of support.

Regarding that, I was at a loss for words.

I simply sat next to her.

We had brief, sporadic conversations.

Some of the cartoon cat patches on her bag were flaking at the corners. Purple was her favourite colour. She had a passion for drawing, particularly dragons and flowers.

“I like making the dragons pink,” she stated to me. “Because people always think they’re supposed to be boys.”

That made me smile.

“Pink dragons sound pretty powerful to me.”

She gave a solemn nod.

“They breathe glitter fire.”

The roadway became empty as the night went on. The neon sign of the corner business was turned off. The city’s bustle subsided into silence.

My fingers were becoming numb by 9:30 p.m. We were the only ones still outside as the wind rose up.

I glanced down at her. She was still only wearing a thin hoodie and was now holding her knees.

I whispered, “Sweetie,” and took out my phone. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, okay? I’m going to—”

But she let out a gasp before I could finish.

Her doughnut wrapper fell on the floor as she leaped off the bench.

Her eyes widened with dread rather than relief.

I spun around to find out what had caused her to act in that manner.

Then I noticed who she was staring at.

At the end of the sidewalk, just past the halo of the closest streetlight, stood a man. He seemed to be in his mid-forties and had been pulled through the type of day that leaves no one unaltered.

His work jacket was smeared with sawdust and grit, and his boots were covered with dried mud. He had a solitary flower in his fingers, slack and crooked at the stem, as though he had picked it in a hurry and left it behind someplace.

His whole body seemed to crumble when he spotted the young girl seated next to me. Something on his face just fell apart, and his shoulders slumped.

“Lily,” he uttered, just above a murmur. “Sweetheart… I’ve been looking for you.”

The girl froze. Beside me, I could feel her body tense. She remained motionless for a while before turning her head slightly in my direction and whispering, “That’s Mommy’s friend.”

I turned to look at the man again. His eyes were red and swollen, not only from tears but also from suppressing too many of them, and his face was pale, as if he hadn’t eaten all day.

He moved forward warily, one step at a time, as if she could flee.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he murmured softly. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

With the blossom quivering in his hands, he knelt gently. He appeared as though he may collapse on the pavement.

“Your mum… she passed away this afternoon. She’d been very sick for a long time. She tried to hold on for you, but she’s gone now.”

Lily didn’t yell. She didn’t enquire. Her tiny face simply collapsed in on itself. She made a tiny, quiet sound that was unadulterated, like air escaping a shattered balloon.

I was having trouble breathing.

At that time, I sensed a change within myself. Something ancient and hidden started to move. It was the same silent pain I used to get as I stared at vacant rooms, uncomfortable test results, and an unrealised future. It wasn’t just mine, though, this time.

I had experienced my own loss, a thousand sleepless nights of solitary sobbing, and a dream I had to give up when life would not cooperate.

I used to trace small names—names I was never able to give—in the condensation on my bedroom window. I used to picture how a child’s head would fit precisely against my shoulder, like a puzzle piece I never had.

However, witnessing a child lose everything in a single sentence opened a part of me that I was unaware existed.

She remained silent. She simply stretched out without thinking and took hold of my hand, gripping it till it nearly hurt.

The man stood slowly after using the back of his hand to wipe his face.

“Lily, honey. We need to call social services. They’ll take care of you. They’ll find you somewhere safe to stay.”

Lily turned to face me at that point and grabbed onto my sleeve.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she whimpered, “Do I have to go?”

With his hands at his sides, the man appeared defenceless.

“She doesn’t have any family,” the man stated. “Her mum didn’t leave a will. Legally, there’s no other choice.”

I glanced at the man, then at Lily.

I enquired, “Did you know her well?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“My name’s Travis. I work at the auto shop down the road. Lily’s mom, Carla, used to bring her car in every month or so. We got to talking. Eventually, we started seeing each other. Nothing serious at first. She didn’t like letting people get too close. But we got there… kind of.”

With a sigh, he ran a palm across his face. “When she got sick, she didn’t want anyone to know. She was scared they’d take Lily away before it was time. I found out she was gone only a few hours ago. Her neighbour called me.”

He seemed to have forgotten the flower in his palm as he gazed down at it.

“She told me if something happened to her, to find Lily. To make sure she wasn’t alone.”

I felt Lily’s tiny fingers clench around mine as I took a deep breath.

Travis inhaled nervously.

“But I’m not her legal guardian. I can’t keep her.”

I gave Lily another glance. Even though she had tears in her eyes, she hadn’t shed a tear since that first broken sound. She simply waited.

So we gave a call.

Someone would arrive in half an hour, according to the caseworker. Travis paced silently as we waited, repeatedly raking a hand through his hair as if he were fighting to stay upright. I continued to grasp Lily’s hand while I sat beside her.

By that time, the street was deserted and the sky was pitch-black. The distant passing of the rare automobile was the sole sound.

I carefully turned to face her.

“Sweetheart, I know this is a lot. And I know you’re scared. But I need to ask you something, okay? Just honestly.”

She nodded and used the hoodie sleeve to wipe her face.

“If the court allowed it, would you want to stay with me? Just for now. Until everything gets sorted out. Maybe longer, if you’d like.”

She took a while to respond. Rather, she leaned forward and delicately pressed her forehead on mine.

“You’re kind,” she muttered. “You stayed with me. You didn’t leave. I want to stay with you.”

I briefly closed my eyes. I was undone by that sentence.

Lily held my hand tightly as the caseworker, a weary-looking woman in a white coat, eventually showed up with a clipboard. Trembling yet firm, her fingers slid into mine once more, as though releasing them would cause her to fall apart entirely. Her breath quickened against my side. As if I were the only thing that was still solid in her universe, she hid behind me.

I said, “She’s with me,” in a firmer tone than I had anticipated.

The woman glanced at Travis, then at Lily, then at me.

She questioned, “You’re her guardian?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “But I’d like to be.”

That was the start.

What came next wasn’t easy. Background checks, house visits, forms, and interviews were all part of the process. In addition to seeing my residence, they enquired about my employment, looked over my money, and examined my support system and mental health history. They investigated everything.

There were times when I doubted my ability to survive. that they would decline. that I was too emotionally delicate, too old, or too single. However, I felt I had to stand up for Lily every time she came to me after school, asked if I could braid her hair, or left tiny drawings of purple dragons on my refrigerator.

Everything had been lost for her. It wasn’t until she began to fill my universe, one silent moment at a time, that I realised how empty it had been.

She kicked her legs over the edge while we sat on the couch one afternoon during a house visit.

She remarked abruptly, “Do you think my mum would be mad?”

I turned to face her and asked, “Mad? Why?”

A quiet “That I like it here,” she remarked. “That I’m not sad all the time.”

I wrapped her in my arm.

“No, sweetheart. I think she’d be really, really glad you’re somewhere safe. Somewhere you can feel okay.”

She leaned against me and gave me a gentle nod.

“I still miss her.”

“I know.”

“Sometimes I talk to her in my head. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” I informed them. “I talk to people in my head, too, sometimes.”

“Do you talk to your baby?”

That was unexpected. A knot formed in my throat.

“I did,” I said following a protracted silence. “For a long time.”

“What did you say?”

I smoothed her hair back while glancing down at her.

“That I loved them. That I was waiting.”

She remained silent for a considerable amount of time.

“I think they sent me to you.”

It hurt my eyes.

We had our last hearing a few weeks later. The judge, an elderly guy with soft eyes, was courteous and treated Lily as though she were made of gold and glass.

“Full guardianship granted,” he eventually concluded, and Lily grabbed my palm till it hurt.

She questioned, hardly raising her voice above a whisper, “Does this mean you’re really my mum now?”

I drew her into my embrace.

“If you want me to be.”

She gave me a shoulder nod.

“I do.”

Something I believed I had long since buried blossomed within of me that day. It was more than love. It was a feeling of direction and inclusion.

Just because we could, we went home that afternoon and ate pancakes for supper. As I flipped them, Lily danced about the kitchen wearing my hoodie. I cried because she made me laugh so hard.

I came to a realisation later that evening when she dozed off next to me on the couch with one hand nestled into mine.

I wasn’t only recovering.

I was at home.

I wasn’t losing another family this time.

I was constructing one.