Sometimes–often, actually–I’m proud of and grateful to my fellow human beings.
My husband had a difficult time with his health for several weeks and was feeling well enough to “escape” the house and go out for lunch. The lunch was great, but it tired him out. I left him sitting in front of Armadillo Willy’s BBQ, a spot of their delicious sauce on his sleeve, and went to get the car. A few yards out of the parking space and I knew I had a flat tire. I pulled into a double space, straddling the line so there was room to change the flat and was getting my handicap scooter out of the car, with the idea of having my husband hang on to me as he walked to the safety of the car.
Along came a woman who had been in the restaurant with us, learned what was going on, and insisted that she pick him up in her car and bring him to me. Then a man, Alex, wandered by and offered to change the tire, saying he could do it before AAA could even dispatch the call. He couldn’t do it with the tools we had, so he dropped my husband off at home (about three miles away). Then he actually went by his own home and picked up better tools. He found me waiting for AAA, who was due in another 15 minutes. Instead of leaving, he hung around and talked with me.
Between Alex’s two times with me several people–some walking, some driving–stopped by to offer help.
I wish I could express how much all this meant to me, how much their actions, which seemed small to them, were huge to me. With so much animosity and negativity in the news, it felt good to be the recipient of the kindness of these strangers.
As I said, it makes me grateful and proud.