Hanna's Plan for the Lonely Bench

There was an old man who sat on the bench by the post office every morning. Hanna saw him on her way to school.

He was always alone. He had a small dog with a grey muzzle. The dog sat at his feet. Sometimes the man read a folded newspaper. Mostly he just sat.

Hanna was six. She watched him for a whole week before she had her plan.

"Mama," she said, on Friday, "can I take some biscuits to the man on the bench tomorrow?"

Mama was surprised. "Which man?"

"The one with the grey dog."

Mama thought about it. "I'll come with you. We'll bring biscuits and tea."

So that Saturday Hanna and her mama walked to the post office. The man was on the bench, as expected. The dog was at his feet.

"Excuse me," said Hanna.

The man looked up. He had thick eyebrows and tired eyes.

"I made biscuits," said Hanna, holding up a paper bag. "Would you like one? My name is Hanna. I see you every morning. This is my mama."

The man took a biscuit. He looked at it. He looked at Hanna. He said, after a long pause, "Thank you. I am Mr Eichmann."

"What's your dog called?"

"Bruno. He's eleven."

"He looks like a kind dog."

Mr Eichmann's tired eyes warmed up a little. He gave a piece of his biscuit to Bruno.

Hanna and her mama sat with him for a while. Mama had brought a thermos. They had tea. Mr Eichmann said his wife had died last year. Mama said something kind. Mr Eichmann nodded.

After that,Hanna and her mama brought biscuits every Saturday. After a few weeks, Mr Eichmann brought biscuits too. Then Hanna's neighbour, Mrs Hagen, came along, having heard. Then a postman started bringing his coffee out to the bench at 10:30 on Saturdays, just to chat.

The bench was not lonely anymore.

Hanna had not done anything dramatic. She had just noticed. And then she had brought biscuits.

Sometimes that is what bravery looks like at six years old.