Skip to Content

Home

What We Carry

Our Stories

Age 5-8

Age 9-12

Age 13-18

Age 19-30

Age 31-50

Age 50+

Inspiration Cards

Sound Sanctuary

Help and Healing

Creative Space

About This Project

Home

What We Carry

Our Stories

Age 5-8

Age 9-12

Age 13-18

Age 19-30

Age 31-50

Age 50+

Inspiration Cards

Sound Sanctuary

Help and Healing

Creative Space

About This Project

Home

Folder: What We Carry

Back

“You don’t have to carry everything at once.”

Just One Friend

Audio Block

Double-click here to upload or link to a .mp3. Learn more

Sofia loved colors. She loved how crayons turned plain paper into oceans and skies and magical cities. Her favorite thing to do was draw, especially when it was quiet. She didn’t need to talk when she was drawing—just imagine, and move her hand.

But one Monday morning, her teacher, Ms. Carter, clapped her hands. “This week, we’re doing Show and Tell! You’ll all bring something you love and tell us about it in front of the class.”

The classroom buzzed with excitement. But Sofia’s stomach dropped.

Talk? In front of everyone?

She felt her chest tighten.

That night, Sofia sat in the living room with her sketchbook on her lap. Her grandmother sat across from her, knitting a red scarf.

“Abuelita,” Sofia said quietly. “Do I have to talk in front of the whole class?”

Her grandmother looked up. “Why, mija?”

“I don’t like it when everyone’s looking at me. My voice feels small, like it wants to hide.”

Abuelita put down her knitting and leaned closer. “When I was your age, I had to recite poems in school. I used to shake like a leaf.” She smiled.

“What did you do?”

“I picked one face—someone kind—and I said my poem just to them. Not to the whole class. Just to one friend.”

Sofia blinked. “That worked?”

“It did,” her grandmother said. “And every time I did it, I got a little braver.”

Sofia thought for a moment. She looked at her sketchbook and flipped to a page with a drawing of her best friend, Dani. He had a big smile and always shared his colored pencils. Dani could be her one kind face.

The next day, Sofia packed her favorite drawing: a picture of a huge tree with birds flying out of it, and a girl sitting in its branches reading a book. She slid it into her backpack and zipped it all the way up.

At school, she barely ate lunch. Her hands were sweaty. One by one, her classmates stood at the front of the room: Aidan showed off his model airplane. Lila brought her cat’s photo and made everyone laugh.

Then Ms. Carter called, “Sofia, you’re up!”

Sofia’s heart pounded in her ears. She looked down at her shoes and walked to the front with shaky legs. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her drawing.

The room went quiet.

She couldn’t look at everyone. It was too much. So she looked at Dani, who was smiling from his seat in the second row.

Just one friend. Just talk to Dani.

“This is… this is my drawing,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s a story picture. I drew a girl in a tree. She’s reading a book to the birds.”

She looked only at Dani. He nodded.

“She reads to the birds every day,” Sofia said, a little louder. “And the tree keeps her safe. It’s a quiet place. I like quiet places.”

She didn’t notice the room anymore. Just the picture, and Dani’s kind face.

When she finished, the class clapped. Not because Ms. Carter told them to, but because they really liked her drawing.

“Beautiful, Sofia,” said Ms. Carter. “Would you like to hang it in the art corner?”

Sofia nodded. Her voice wasn’t hiding anymore. It wasn’t big—but it was hers.

At recess, Lila came up to her. “I loved your drawing! Can you show me how to do the birds?”

Sofia smiled. “Sure. Want to sit under the tree near the swings?”

Lila grinned. “Perfect.”

That night, Sofia pulled out her sketchbook and drew a new picture: a tiny girl standing on a big stage. In the crowd, just one friendly face looked up at her, smiling.

She colored the girl’s shirt red—just like Abuelita’s scarf.