I can remember that day very well. There was nothing strange about the store itself; just the typical dull drone of fluorescent lighting that makes its way into such small stores. It was a typical supermarket where everything is packed in rows and covered in plastic, giving off a distinct sterile smell.
Everything seemed normal until I walked down to the baby department.
There I simply wanted to waste some time by browsing through the aisles, but suddenly something caught my attention. Not too far from me there was a woman, cradling a baby tightly as if protecting him from everybody in the store. But it was her expression that made me stop.
She did not seem to be shopping at all; she was only staring around at people who seemed completely out of place in such a setting. There was no hysterical scream of horror. You could tell she was carrying way more than just the baby.
I attempted to return to my shopping, yet the voice of my inner instinct persisted to ring inside of me. It is a feeling when your common sense screams at you to concentrate despite not caring much about other people’s affairs.
After several seconds, she started walking towards us. She was moving slow, like she was second-guessing every step.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking back and forth between me and my husband.
My husband, a typical guy, responded politely but cautiously to her inquiry. His response was brief, as men tend to be polite but also unwilling to engage in lengthy conversations.
But I had been watching more closely. Her hands were trembling as she straightened out the blanket of the baby. She was picking her words carefully. There was no matter of what she was saying, but rather it was the vibration of everything around us.
I interrupted before I thought better of it.
“It’s alright,” I said softly. “Take your time.”
She gazed at me right then, and in that moment, her “everything is okay” mask just broke down. No show at all, but just enough to realize how much she was going through.
The problem is that sometimes what someone needs isn’t a moral or a cure-all. What they really need to hear is that they are not invisible to the world around them.
I didn’t think too much about it. I didn’t do a psychological assessment of the situation. I simply heard what she had to say and when it seemed appropriate, I offered my assistance with something simple. I reached into my bag, I pulled out $200 and handed it to her, telling her to use it for baby formula and whatever else they needed. It felt like the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t something anyone else in the store would have noticed or cared about.
There were no other words exchanged, except her “thank you.” They echoed through the room like a huge load being lifted from her shoulders.
There was no exchange of pleasantries. No prolonged interaction to make the whole thing a little more memorable than it had been. There was only an odd silence between two people who barely knew each other. But the air somehow shifted.
My husband looked at me after she left.
“You don’t even know her,” he told me. He did not mean to insult me. “Sometimes, you have to be careful, you know?”
I understood what he meant. This world is crazy, and people are taking advantage of others. He did make a valid point.
However, all I could do was nod. “Yes, I do understand that, but sometimes, it’s just… you know.”
He had no other choice than to leave me alone with this one. For me, however, everything seemed alright because I was not guided by logic anymore.
Time passed by, and weeks later, the incident in the store was just something else that ended up being another memory.
But somehow, it was always there.
I began taking notice of people. How someone holds back from talking, that certain glimmer in a stranger’s eye because they were having a particularly terrible day. This realization showed me just how much we walk right on by and do not see anything.
Everyone has a story we know nothing about.
This experience taught me that kindness does not have to be this grand gesture to mean something. More often than not, it is the smaller things that make all the difference.
A couple of months after the first experience, I was in another store in a completely different area. It was larger and busier. I had walked around for a while just getting a few things without really paying any mind.
As I stood at the counter, I looked up, and suddenly stopped dead in my tracks.
Recognition can be a strange thing; you get that feeling for just a second.
It was her.
She was at the register, hair tied back, in a uniform. She seemed entirely different from before; she seemed calm and sure of herself, and she was simply doing her job. She was talking to people and genuinely seemed like she enjoyed being where she was.
She took a little while to notice me.
However, when she did, everything changed about her face.
Her eyes got wide, and she smiled at me like I’d never seen anyone smile before.
“You,” she said. It almost seemed unbelievable.
“Hi,” I replied.
The sounds from the store momentarily fell away, just as they had the last time I saw her.
“I had hoped that I might see you again,” she said. She sounded much more assured than before. “Unfortunately, there were things I didn’t get to say that first time.”
I assured her it wasn’t a problem, but she would not let it go.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “It most certainly is.”
She glanced behind me in the line, leaning forward slightly.
“On that day, what happened… It was much more important to me than you can possibly imagine,” she said. “I was in a very tough place in my life, and I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I almost didn’t even ask for your help.”
I listened.
“And yet you didn’t turn away,” she continued. “You didn’t make me feel like a burden, and that meant a great deal to me at that time.”
“‘What was that?’” I asked.
“‘Hope,’” she replied.
The word hung there.
It seems that one encounter was enough to push her into seeking help, to begin looking for work, and to start putting everything in order again. Of course, that was not easy, but that first experience became the beginning.
“This small gesture,” she said, “was enough to believe that maybe hope was not impossible.”
I could not really respond.
To be honest, I never thought that such a simple action would make such an impact on another person’s life. After all, it was my decision, made in a store.
But now I understand that kindness does not always come with such loud signals. Sometimes, its influence on people is imperceptible.
That doesn’t mean it is not powerful, however.
“I am so glad you are feeling better,” I told her.
She looked genuinely happier and smiled once more. “I am too.”
After leaving the store, I felt… lighter. Not proud. Just realized. We underestimate the small things we do all the time. They think we have to do something big and impressive to make a difference. But most often, small things, unnoticed things, end up meaning the most.
That is one thing I try not to forget.
To take a few more seconds and truly pay attention to the person right in front of me. Because we all carry our burdens and worries around us. You just don’t realize it until you are looking into their eyes.
Sometimes, even a little bit of kindness goes a long way.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace
