A Moment for the Kindness of Strangers

The kindness of strangers over the last 48 hours or so has floored me--to the point that I can no longer keep the gratitude to myself. For anyone who needs some faith restored in the humanity around them today...

To the five people who pushed my car up a hill in a snow storm: you started as two. And when the neighbours, shovelling their own way out of the snow, noticed that two was not enough, they dropped what they were doing and flanked you both to help. I did not get a chance to say a proper thank you, but I heard you cheering along with me as you gave one last push into the intersection. ...I just want you to know, I made it home.

To the woman who helped me remove a shard of glass from my finger: I don't even know what you look like. I tend to get tunnel vision when I'm focused on a critical task; so as I stood at the sink in a busy public bathroom, all I was focused on was my finger. But I heard your voice beside me--encouraging me to squeeze the cut for you so you could help remove the glass. I know I could have worked it out on my own, but you saw a way to make it easier. I didn't see your face, but I saw your gentle fingers come in alongside mine, and gently wipe the shard away. "There! We got it!" you exclaimed. The accomplishment was as much yours as mine in the end. I heard you dispose of the paper towel, finally in a head space where I could look up to see you. But you had already turned away towards the door--and then you were gone. I just want you to know, tending another's wound--no matter how small--is a brave thing in my mind. Thank you for your bravery.

To the Airbnb guest who insisted on helping me clear my driveway: when I said, "1900 square feet," I was not exaggerating, but you didn't seem to mind. You grabbed the shovel while I started up my snow thrower--you did your thing, I did mine. I may have taken on most of the surface area, but you tackled all the stairs and the uneven path to the back gate. As far as I'm concerned, that's like voluntarily taking the heel of a loaf of bread; I just want you to know, I am extremely grateful.

To the lady who gave me her parking pass: I'd been pretty much go-go-go all day. And at the end of the afternoon, with one meeting still left, I stood in front of the parking lot pay machine, pausing to consider my options on the screen. There is something to be said for a pause in a busy day. As you started your car, your voice cut through the traffic around me, "Do you want my pass?" Thank you for sharing. I just want you to know, it may have felt like a little thing, but it was a meaningful thing.

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