She was en route to visit her grandson for the first time. A week later, I received a postcard from her, complete with a photo and a thank-you note that she must have sent to my address found on my bag tag. It remains on my fridge to this day.
Our connection transcended language; kindness knows no boundaries… even across distances. In high school, I forgot my lunch and, attempting to use the vending machine, lost my last dollar. I noticed a note taped to the side that read, “If you need a snack, use the coins under here :)” I checked, and there were three quarters hidden behind the slot.
Thanks to that small act of kindness, I was able to get a granola bar and felt seen rather than forgotten. The next day, I added a dollar back, and that note stayed up all semester. Someone chose to be kind, and it created a ripple effect.
One day at work, I found myself crying in the walk-in fridge, unaware that a girl from another department had witnessed me. Later, a manager walked in and simply said, “You’re covered. Go home.” It turned out she had taken my shift without asking why.
I learned later that she had other plans that night but never mentioned them. When I tried to repay her, she said, “I hope someone would do the same for me.” Since then, I’ve made it a priority to look out for those who are quietly struggling. One day in a parking lot, I accidentally backed into a man’s car.
I anticipated anger and a confrontation, but instead, he first checked if I was alright. He said, “It’s just a bumper,” and didn’t even ask for my information before walking away. I hadn’t experienced such grace in a long time, and it prompted me to finally reach out to my dad after six years of silence.
After finalizing my divorce, I was leaving the courthouse feeling composed until I reached the front doors. There, a man was walking in, and he simply held the door open for me. He didn’t rush or speak, just stood there patiently.
It gave me a moment to breathe, reminding me that not all significant moments need to be dramatic. Sometimes, kindness is just about allowing someone to take their time. After a visit to the ER, I ordered an Uber home, feeling bandaged yet cleared.
When the driver arrived, he looked at me and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” I nodded in response. He then said, “Let’s wait for 10 minutes. I’ll drive after that.” He just sat quietly without starting the ride.
In those ten minutes of silence, I realized I wasn’t really okay. But after that brief wait in his car, I found some comfort, and then he drove me home. One rainy evening, as I walked home without an umbrella and my hoodie drenched, I passed by a small bus shelter where an old man sat, dry and engrossed in a paperback.
He waved me over and took off his plastic poncho, insisting that I wear it. I protested, but he replied, “I’m already home. This bench is mine,” and smiled, returning to his reading in the rain.
When my dog slipped out of the gate, I was heartbroken. That night, someone knocked on my door, handed me her leash, and said, “She’s fast.” I expressed my gratitude numerous times, but he simply smiled and replied, “No problem.” When I looked down, I realized it wasn’t my leash; it was new, and attached to it was a note that read, “In case she ever wants to run again.”
