Be Kind 

Sunlit plants. Snails slide silently across the stone path. Light shifts through leaves in rhythmic dances, creating shadow play on the ground.

The sunshine wraps the garden like a warm blanket, and I sit still, learning—slowly—to be kind.

Bubbles of golden light filter through the trees in our small, humble garden. It’s not grand, but it’s ours. I’m not alone here. A chocolate-smeared toddler, full of energy and opinions, peeks through the fence with curious blue eyes. She talks to me in unfinished words and full ideas, and somehow we’re discussing the important things. Her presence is grounding. It’s like the universe gifted me a miniature philosopher with sticky fingers.

Inside, my best friend is tackling a 1500-piece puzzle leftover from the early lockdown days. I gave up after three days—my attention wandered. But he stuck with it, one piece at a time, patiently filling in the gaps. His quiet determination astounds me. Marley, our cat, is wedged between the wall and the PC tower, snoring. He’s always close by, listening to Angus & Julia Stone as I type this.

Nature is kind

There’s life here—real, vibrant life. You just have to slow down enough to notice it. Gardens are like people. They need love. They need patience. Without care, they fade. Without kindness, nothing grows.

When we moved in, this garden was a mess. Overgrown, forgotten, and tangled. But we started small. Watered it. Gave it time. Gave it kindness. Nature, like us, is resilient. Even during the lockdown, when the world felt paused, the plants kept reaching for the sun.

A gentle rustle breaks my thoughts. Gizmo, my one-eyed old boy, shuffles past me. He’s been with me for 17 years. We met when he was just six weeks old. Now he moves a little slower, stumbles a little more. But he’s still here, loyal and calm. He collapses in the leaves beside me, his fur almost disappearing into the shadows.

To me, he is perfect.

Coldplay’s Trouble in Town plays in the background. How fitting. The world outside feels upside-down. So much fear. So much loss. Yet here, right now, in this sunbeam-dappled corner of the world, there’s peace. Birds are chirping in the trees, snails are inching along the path, and a child is giggling in the distance.

We are lucky. We have internet. Spotify. A camera with a zoom lens. A full tummy. A cigarette in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. We live in a small duplex—just five units in a neat row. Three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, and only two people under our roof. Warm. It’s safe. More than enough.

Not everyone is so fortunate.

Just over a field and a few roads away lies Masiphumelele, an informal settlement bursting at the seams. “Informal settlement” sounds tidy. It isn’t. There, people live crowded in shacks with no running water, no space, and no privacy. Many women go without sanitary products. Many children go without food or education. The streets are dusty, chaotic, and unforgiving. The weight of it sits in the back of my mind, always. How can it not?

And yet, I sit in my garden—grateful, yes, but also aware. It’s easy to get caught up in comfort and forget. But we can’t. We mustn’t.

We must be kind.

Kindness is not weakness. Don’t you think it’s a strength, wrapped in softness? Being kind is offering help when no one asks. It’s listening when someone speaks without words. Seeing beyond your garden fence.

We all carry burdens. Some you can see. Others you never will.

Mental illness. Depression. Anxiety. Loneliness. They don’t always wear signs. And suicide—tragic, final, and too often silent—is claiming too many lives.

Learn to Talk.

Talk about mental health. Ask the hard questions. Sit with discomfort. Be brave enough to listen and kind enough to care. You don’t have to fix anyone. You just have to show up.

Every person you meet is carrying something heavy. Even the ones who smile the most.

As the sun begins to sink behind the trees, I feel a quiet hope. This strange time has stripped away distractions. It has reminded me of what matters: kindness, connection, and care.

Let us not forget this when the world spins again.

In the words of the late, great Robin Williams,

“Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.”

Without a doubt,  I will always talk about it. Firstly, break the silence. Secondly, mental illness is real. Lastly, suicide is real. Finally, kindness is more powerful than you think.