In a small town near green hills and a gentle stream, there lived Amma, a kind and warm elderly woman. Her home was a simple cottage at the edge of the town, surrounded by a garden, a few fruit trees, and a fence that whispered in the breeze. Amma had no children of her own, and her husband had passed away many years before.
But Amma was not alone. She had Poppy, her small hen with soft white feathers, black spots on her wings, and a little red comb. Poppy followed Amma everywhere, collecting softly as if adding her own opinion to their conversations.
The villagers would often smile when they saw the two slowly walking together, Amma with her cane and Poppy waddling beside her like a loyal little friend. Every morning as the sun painted the sky in orange and pink, Poppy would lay a single warm smooth egg. Amma would collect it with great care, hold it gently in her wrinkled hands and whisper, "One is enough, my dear.
May we always have just what we need. " She would boil the egg, eat half for breakfast, and save the rest for dinner. Amma tended her small garden, grew her own vegetables and lived with peace in her heart.
One day, something unusual happened. Poppy laid two eggs instead of one. Amma blinked.
Two? She whispered. "Well, now that's generous.
" She cooked one egg and took the second to the market. She didn't ask for much, just enough to buy a handful of rice and a piece of jaggery. The following days, Poppy continued to lay two eggs each morning.
Soon the villagers noticed. Sell both eggs, armor, said one. You should feed Poppy more.
Maybe she'll give three, said another. Think bigger. You could have 10 hens.
Make a business. But Amma only smiled warmly and said, "One for me and one to share. That's enough.
" She gave the extra eggs to a poor family to children on their way home from school or quietly left them on someone's doorstep. People began calling her egg armor with affection. Then the monsoon came.
The rain fell hard for days. The nearby stream overflowed. The fields were washed away and many families fell into difficult times.
But Poppy kept laying two eggs each day, and Armma had been saving many. She boiled them, pickled them, and quietly handed them out to those in need without asking for anything in return. One rainy afternoon, a group of villagers came to her and said, "Amma, why didn't you sell more when you had the chance?
Why didn't you try to make more money? " Amma paused, looked at them warmly, and said, "Because true happiness isn't about gathering more. It's about loving what we already have and sharing it when the time comes.
I kept only what I needed. The rest was a gift to be shared. " Poppy clucked softly and snuggled against Amma's feet as if in complete agreement.
True happiness isn't about collecting more. It's about appreciating what we already have and choosing to share it with kindness. When we lift up others, we lift ourselves and together we become rich in compassion, peace, and happiness.
