The Kindness Leftover in Us from Childhood

That little spark that awakens when lights turn on in the street

There is something very special that lives inside us, something that we rarely name, but we always feel. It doesn’t speak loudly. It doesn’t demand anything. It is quiet, gentle, and hidden in the corners of our hearts like old photographs that we keep in a shoe box. We usually forget about it, until one small moment touches it — and suddenly it shines.

I call it the kindness leftover from childhood.

Every one of us carries it. We just don’t always notice it.

We grow up. We build walls around ourselves. We learn to protect, to achieve, to run after goals, to fix problems, to survive in a world that often feels like it has no time for softness. And yet… the softness stays. Somewhere inside us. Like a small pilot light in the middle of a cold night — always burning.

Do you know when it wakes up?

Often during the holidays.

Especially during Christmas time.

When the Christmas lights begin to appear — not in the shops yet, but in the streets at night — something moves in us. It is almost like an instinct of the soul. We look through the window and see a street filled with tiny lights. Suddenly we stop scrolling our phones. We stop thinking about tomorrow. We stop counting our tasks. We simply look.

And for that moment — we are children again.

We remember what it felt like to be excited about something small and magical. We remember our childhood Decembers, when everything looked more like a fairy tale than a month on the calendar. When the world felt safe, and beautiful, and full of possibilities. When kindness was natural, not measured.

Kindness, back then, wasn’t something we talked about.
It was something we were.

We offered it without reasons.
We believed in good without doubts.
We trusted without fear.

That kindness is still in us. It never died. It just waited.

It waited behind our adult disappointments, behind broken friendships, behind lost dreams, behind all the things we had to face to become who we are today.

And then one simple moment — like the streetlights turning on in November — touches the spark again.

There is something spiritual in those first holiday lights. They don’t speak language, but they say something to the heart: “Remember. Remember who you were. Remember what mattered. Remember that goodness is still alive inside you.”

We don’t need a big miracle to reawaken kindness.
We only need a tiny reminder.

The glow of a window candle.
A child’s smile in a grocery store.
Someone holding the door for a stranger.
An elderly couple walking slowly hand in hand.
A neighbor putting food outside for the birds.

These are small things. Almost invisible to the world. But they are huge reminders to the soul. Because human hearts don’t wake up from noise. They wake up from tenderness.

The kindness leftover from childhood is like a seed. It waits for a little sun. A little warmth. And then it grows again.

And here is the beautiful truth — when it moves inside us, we pass it to others. Not through big acts. Not through expensive gifts. But through the simple way we show that we still care.

A message to someone we haven’t spoken to for a while.
A patient word instead of a sharp reply.
A gesture of understanding.
A smile that says: “I see you.”

This is real Christmas magic.

Not the decorations.
Not the gifts.
Not the perfect table.

The real magic is when something inside us becomes soft again. When we allow ourselves to feel the same wonder we felt as children — but now through adult eyes.

It’s when we choose to become gentle once more.

And here is a comforting thought: we do not have to force this. We don’t need to pretend, or decorate our lives with artificial emotions. Kindness doesn’t need a big stage. It doesn’t need applause. It doesn’t need announcement.

It only needs permission.

There is a place inside us — always open for kindness. Christmas is just the key that unlocks it.

This season gives us a chance to become the version of ourselves we secretly miss — the version that is hopeful, trusting, and full of light. And the best part is: we can carry this softness into the new year. It doesn’t have to disappear when December ends.

Kindness can be our daily language.

Because the world we live in today needs it more than ever. People are tired. People are lonely. People are running so fast that they forget to breathe. But one small act of kindness can be like oxygen to someone’s heart.

Let the holiday lights remind you — not only of childhood, but of who you still are deep inside.

Soft. Bright. Kind.

This December, may you look at the street when the lights turn on — and feel that little spark moving in your chest again. That spark is not just nostalgia. It is your real nature. Your genuine human essence.

There is still so much kindness in you.
It has been waiting for this season to wake up again.

GK