"Mom! Mom! What are you doing?" Rim called out loudly from the doorway.
"I'm sorting out the clothes we don't use anymore," I replied while folding a pile beside me. "Come and help me with yours too."
Rim walked closer, curiosity shining in her eyes.
"So, what's your plan for all these unused clothes, Mom?"
"I'm going to donate them," I answered casually.
"Donate… but to whom?" she asked again.
"To the needy people, of course," I replied, slightly irritated by her continuous questions.
Rim paused for a moment and then asked gently, "But Mom, who do you think are truly needy?"
Her question made me look up. "I'll give them to the caretaker's family," I said confidently.
Rim shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think they are actually needy, Mom. Yes, they work here because they need money, but they receive a salary and even bonuses."
"Bonuses? What are you saying, dear?" I asked, surprised.
She continued calmly, choosing her words carefully.
"They don't have to pay rent or electricity bills here. Their children are enrolled in school and have books, but they often skip classes and spend time watching videos or playing games on mobile phones. Uncle sits near the gate most of the time watching movies or listening to songs. If he wanted, he could take care of the garden, but he doesn't."
I listened silently as she went on.
"They are four members in the family, yet they own three mobile phones, use Bluetooth devices, and even have a refrigerator. I've never seen them wearing torn clothes. So how can we say they are truly needy?"
She then pointed toward the road outside.
"But the families who sit near the park gate and the marketplace… they live on footpaths. Their clothes are torn. During winter, they don't even have proper blankets. Maybe their children actually want to study but don't get the chance."
Her voice softened.
"If you really want to help someone, Mom, shouldn't we give these clothes to people who truly need them?"
I remained silent, absorbing every word. At that moment, I realized how deeply my young daughter had observed the world around her.
I had only thought of giving away unused clothes so they wouldn't go to waste. But Rim had taught me something far greater — the importance of understanding real need before offering help.
A wave of pride filled my heart.
Smiling, I said, "You are absolutely right, dear. Let's sort these clothes properly. I'll wash them first, and tomorrow we'll go together to donate them to those families."
Rim's face lit up with a satisfied smile. She was happy—not because she was right, but because she had helped me see something I had overlooked.
That day, my daughter didn't just help me clean the cupboard.
She helped me clean my perspective.