When I was five years old, my family and I had recently emigrated from Albania to Melbourne after the second world war. As a child of refugees, we experienced the searing poverty common among displaced people trying to rebuild their lives in unfamiliar places. New toys were a rare luxury.
One day at a local town hall fair, I saw a table where for a penny one could try to win a doll. I had no penny, but I desperately wanted the beautiful doll in an extravagant light blue dress. I lingered, hoping no one would win it.
A woman I had never seen before played and won the chance to choose a doll. She turned to me with a smile and asked which one I would like to take home. I pointed to the doll in the pale blue dress, and she gave it to me. It was mine. I was overwhelmed with wonder.
That act of kindness was pure magic. I cherished that doll until I was 17, when we moved to Canada and luggage restrictions forced me to leave it behind. That woman's generosity sowed my belief that small acts of kindness can change lives. Sixty-five years later, I can say I am a better person because of that day at the fair.
