One day, when the war had just begun, Mark and I went for a walk by the sea. The promenade was unusually deserted—few dared to take a stroll during the frequent bombings.
While walking along the shore, we met a young man with a little girl, about four years old, wearing a bright polka-dot dress. In conversation, we learned that they were refugees from the south of the country.

Our talk was abruptly interrupted by a deafening siren, and we all ran together to a safe place. In the shelter, we crouched down in a circle—I hugged the children while their father shielded us with his strong arms, like a stork covering its nestlings with its wings during a storm.
I could see that our new acquaintances were very frightened. The man tried to stay composed, but his trembling hands betrayed his anxiety. The little girl was crying bitterly, and Mark was frozen in shock—overwhelmed by the tension of the situation.

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I had an idea! I took off my favorite wide-brimmed hat and placed it on the sobbing girl. I told her that this beautiful hat was magical and that nothing bad ever happens to those who wear it. The girl stopped crying and, still sniffling a little, started listening to me intently. “This extraordinary hat protects its wearer from any danger or trouble,” I said in the most convincing tone I could muster.
To make it more believable, I invented a couple of stories about how the magic of this wonderful hat had saved me before, and how my father had given it to me as a gift. “And now, I’ll give it to you so that you’ll never be afraid again!”
The girl calmed down and even started to smile a little. Her father was deeply grateful to me.

Mark later recalled this, in my opinion, vivid moment in our lives and brought it to life again in one of his new, vibrant paintings.
Our views aligned once again. 🙂

P.S. Mark and I would be delighted to meet that brave father and his lovely little daughter again someday.