Niceness is nice. It is mild and gentle and passive and stilted. Niceness looks good center stage. Niceness pats you on the head. Niceness is calling out Bless You from two aisles away when someone sneezes in public. Niceness opens the door for you.
Kindness tips its hat and winks. Kindness is visceral. Kindness is warm and rich and silent and private. Kindness takes you aside and offers you a shoulder, a ride, a hand, a heart. Kindness calls out the ugly in the room and silences its vigor. Kindness forgets itself.
Niceness is sugar and spice. It touches your back as it moves past you. Niceness talks the talk. Niceness knows which spoon to use and which door to open. It takes your temperature, changes the filter, files the papers, brings in the mail, and puts the cap back on the bottle. Niceness tops off your coffee.
Kindness adds a sandwich in a brown paper bag. It holds the seashell to your ear to remind you of the saltiness of the sea. Kindness holds your hair back as you weep. It knows the intricacy of your face and sees a masterpiece in its lines. Kindness remembers to close the lid. It adds a coin to your parking meter before it can expire.
Niceness tips the waiter, remembers your birthday, and brings a dish. Niceness applauds your successes. It offers you its seat, invites you to the bbq, brings a spare pen, and speaks sweetly to the stranger. It wears a pony tail, a shirt with a collar, comfortable flats. Niceness double bags.
Kindness carries the mud in a bucket. It remembers where the pain comes from and looks there to find you. Kindness stands up to offer you a seat and brings you a pillow for your back. Kindness looks into your eyes and sees you there. Kindness ties ribbons around trees. Kindness carries a flashlight.
Niceness remembers that you take two sugars. It welcomes you in the door with a smile and a hand. Niceness returns your Tupperware smelling sweet and leaves a nice note. Niceness brings something cute to the potluck. Niceness always allows you to cut ahead in line. Niceness has very good taste.
Kindness doesn't know if you like them. It takes risks. Kindness doubles over in laughter and sobs fat tears. Kindness is willing to feel the pain of being misunderstood. Kindness carries your bag the last mile. Kindness is comfortable with weakness. Kindness does not think first.
Niceness is a bit unsure. It would never offend. Niceness keeps its purse off of the table, carries Kleenex, and hangs its coat on the hook. Niceness brings cookies. Niceness knows we should be generous and good. It keeps things organized, orders the flowers, and knows where to find your keys.
Kindness carries you forward. It holds fast to your hand when all others have disappeared. Kindness has eyes as deep as a well, eyes that bring water to the surface in a wooden bucket. Kindness turns the handle to bring that water up to your lips, holding the bucket close. Kindness remembers the words of your favorite song and sings them back to you when you have lost your voice.
Niceness sends a nice Hallmark card. Niceness smells sweet and carries flowers. It is tactful and polite. Nice knows when to be quiet. Niceness shines and soothes and attracts smiles from those around it. It carries exact change, returns its cart, and kisses the smooth faces of babies. Niceness adds a sticker.
Kindness ties twine around branches to hold up the weight of the too-heavy branch. Kindness plants seeds that it will not see bloom. It touches your skin in all of the broken places. Kindness firmly marches you forward when you fear your strength is gone. Kindness rides the bus with you long after dark. Kindness has stamina and knows the taste of grit. Kindness makes you laugh.
Niceness is polite and dependable and terribly nice.
Kindness is fierce and tender and merciful.
What do you think?
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