The Joey Who Found Comfort in a Teddy Bear.65
spotting movement at the roadside. At first, she thought it might just be a stray bundle of fur stirred by the wind. But as she drew closer, her heart caught—the fragile figure of a cadet kangaroo stood trembling in the dust, alone and unsure.
She pulled over, stepping carefully out of her car, hoping not to frighten the tiny creature. And then, almost as if destiny had been waiting for her, a baby joey suddenly bounded from the scrub. Without hesitation, it leapt straight into her arms, pressing its face against her chest as though it had finally found the safety it had been searching for.
The officer held it gently, feeling its small body quiver with fear and loss. She whispered soothing words, rocking it the way a mother might comfort a child, but the joey’s desperate clinging told her it needed something more. Searching her patrol car for anything that might help, her eyes landed on an unexpected gift—a little teddy bear, left behind on the passenger seat by her daughter after the morning school run.
She carefully placed the toy in the joey’s arms. The change was instant. The tiny kangaroo grasped it tightly, nestling into the soft fabric as though it were a mother’s embrace. In that fragile moment, the roadside no longer felt so lonely. A child’s toy, forgotten in a car, had become a lifeline of comfort for a lost soul.
Wildlife carers soon arrived, bringing warm voices and practiced hands. They assured the officer the joey would be taken to a nearby sanctuary, where it would be fed, protected, and loved. Even as they lifted it away, the joey refused to release the teddy bear, clutching it close as though it had always been his.
Today, that little kangaroo is safe in Toowoomba, growing stronger under careful watch. And still, every night, he curls up with the same teddy bear that comforted him on the day he lost everything—and found something unexpected.
Sometimes, the smallest kindnesses—a soft toy, a gentle embrace—can change the course of a life.
"We Opened Up About Our Insecurities—Then I Asked Him Out and Gave Us Both a Reason to Smile".61
A month or two ago, in the middle of a busy workday, I found myself in a rare quiet moment with a coworker I’ve always admired from afar. Not because he’s loud or flashy—he’s the opposite, really. He’s the quiet kind, the kind who holds doors open without making a show of it, who refills the coffee pot even if no one asks, who remembers your name and your favorite snack. You know, the kind of soul who makes the world feel a little softer.
That day, he opened up.
He told me he hadn’t been on a date in six years. Six. I tried to keep my face neutral, but inside, my heart cracked just a little. He said he didn’t feel attractive, that he wasn’t sure he even remembered how to talk to someone romantically. It wasn’t a complaint, just a quiet truth. And from there, the conversation deepened. We ended up sharing things about ourselves—real things, raw things—that I won’t repeat here, but that kind of connection changes how you see someone.
From that day on, I looked at him differently. Not because he suddenly became someone new, but because I realized I had been overlooking the quiet brilliance he brought into every room. The way he makes people feel seen. The way he lifts others even when he doesn’t feel lifted himself.
Last weekend, I did something I never thought I would. I asked him out.
His reaction was priceless—you’d think I told him he won the lottery. He was stunned. Shocked. Completely speechless, which made me laugh, and he laughed too. I could see it in his face—how much it meant to be chosen, to be wanted. It lit him up in a way I hadn’t seen before.
We went to Sandbox VR, and I swear we laughed like teenagers the entire time. For those few hours, we weren’t coworkers or two people weighed down by insecurities. We were adventurers, partners in crime, teammates. We were free.
At the end of the night, I looked him in the eyes and told him: “You’ve got a forever partner in crime now. We outside this year, period!”
He doesn’t know it, but that night—his joy, his laughter, the way he looked at me like I was the most unexpected gift—
This story isn’t about romance, though maybe that’s where it’s heading. It’s about kindness. About taking a chance. About listening when someone tells you who they are and loving them right there.
So here’s your reminder: Be kind. Be open. Be brave. You never know what someone’s going through, and sometimes, the smallest gesture—a question, a date, a simple “you matter”—can mean everything.
And to my coworker, if you ever read this: thank you for showing me how beautiful softness can be.
We outside. For real this time. ❤️
