Random Acts of Kindness

this post was previously written. the cool weather today reminded me that i forgot to post it. :)

Turkey and I went to Target this morning because I hate the grocery store and going there makes me feel like I am not actually grocery shopping. We had nothing to do but laundry today (which we try to avoid as much as possible), so we started in right by the door and hit every department all the way around till we ended up back at the cash registers. By the time we made it all the way back to the front of the store, my cart was LOADED and I was exhausted!


Needless to say, by the time I got up to the registers, I WAS READY TO GET OUT OF THERE! I checked out, (tried not to barf when she gave me the total) zipped up Turkey's little coat and headed out to the van. This is always the fun part for me (not!):  loading up 400 lbs of toothpaste, deodorant and new gym socks into the back of the van, hoping it will fit, praying I don't set the Diet Coke on top of the eggs again or that the milk jugs won't roll out when I lift the hatch at the house, and hurrying so Turkey won't freeze to death while I load it all up. (Do I turn it on to keep him warm, or NOT to keep him safe from potential turkey-snatchers lurking in the area? eeny- meeny- meiny- mo!)
Anyhoo...so I loaded it all up, picked up my sweet boy, planted a big smooch on his chubby little cheek, strapped him into the car seat, shut the door and headed back to get the cart to park it...all the while keeping any eye out for said turkey-snatchers...when to my surprise the sweetest little old man with the face of an angel, poked his head out from behind my van. He was holding a cane in one hand. He smiled at me and asked "can I park your cart for you?".


~Seraphim could be heard singing in the heavens. ~



You (tiny, little old man on a cane) want to help ME???




I staggered a little, but managed a "yes, thank you!"


I felt a pang of guilt as I watched him sloooowly join his aged companion. Together they walked my cart around the puddles and into the door of Target so that my Turkey would not have to sit in an unattended vehicle. I watched my boy's abandoned juice box jiggled as they bumped over the pavement, choking up a bit at the sight of her holding the door for him.

I wish I had said more. I wished I had hugged him or bought him a cup of coffee. But I didn't. Instead, as is usual for me, I wasn't able to find the right words at the time I needed them. I can't help it, I am the reflective type.



When I got home and unloaded the sacks from the trunk, I brought them in, like always and set them down on my kitchen table. As I looked down at the table, I realized this was the table my grandma and grandpa bought together 25 years ago, when he was still alive. As silly as it sounds, I knew that if that adorable little man had come home with me and seen that table, where so many memories had been shared--the table that makes me think of my own grandparents every single day--he would have been pleased.

Suddenly, the sacks did not feel like they weighed 400 pounds. They just seemed like part of life, being lived around Grandma and Grandpa's table, as it should be.