In spite of that, and no matter how close to tears I am during the waiting, I always talk to the cashier and bagger, even including others in line with kind comments. I’ll compliment strangers in the aisles, too, just to offer bits of nicety and cheer in this stressful world. By the time I gimp to the car, though, I have all I can do to walk.
That day, there was a big pickup truck parked fairly close to my driver’s side. I slowly opened the back door careful to not hit the truck. I’d just put the first bags in the backseat when the truck’s driver came out with her few groceries. I offered to move and let her get her things unloaded. (I usually let people who have less stuff and/or move faster than I go first.)
She told me she could put her things in on the other side. When done, she came back to me and offered to hand me my remaining bags, so I didn’t have to walk back and forth to the cart. (Even though it was only a few steps, my legs were screaming.) Then she took my cart to the carriage stall.
I was so grateful. Yeah, I could have and would have done that (I always take the carts to the stalls), but to have a stranger help … there’s something so special about that. There are kind people around. Every time I start to lose hope in mankind (hearing news horror stories of criminal activities every day), I meet a kind, thoughtful person.
“Random acts of kindness” is so important these days when it seems random acts of violence is something we all must be so wary of lately.
About this column: I have so many topics to write about regarding being old. It’s hard to decide which to choose. My list is growing longer faster than I can cover the subjects. Yet, I don’t want this to just be about my issues. I’d like to hear from others, too, as we sometimes deal with issues differently.
I’m a believer that telling our stories may help others dealing with similar. Talking/writing also helps us not feel so alone with our struggles. Others can relate and have their own stories to tell.
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