Kindness Story Competition

Kindness Story Competition:

Tears Of Receiving

Strolling down the dirt path, kicking stones and humming a monotonous tune to which ever being that would listen was my ordinary walk from school. Nothing was special. Nothing was particularly of interest. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

However, during this stroll from school, my back hunched under the weight of my schoolbag, I saw a familiar shadow.

Her back, hunched like mine, but inflicted by the routine of bending towards the ground to pick up anything that was of value, was faced towards me. Struggling, her wrinkled form stooped down to ground level to pick up waste aluminum cans, bottle pieces and even plastic carriers.

She is the infamous “Grumpy Old Woman” of our neighborhood. Poor, old and abandoned, she welcomed no pity nor love, no help nor kindness. Nobody spoke to her, nobody speaks of her, and she speaks to nobody.

Just before me, a hunched form that reminds me so dearly of my loving Granny accidentally dropped her carrier bag of valued items, spilling its contents all over the sidewalk. She lets out a tired groan of deject and weariness as she stoops down yet again, picking up again all that she picked up from her whole afternoon of scavenging.

Conscience gnawed at my heart. I was told many times by my mother never to help this old untrustworthy woman, but I pushed this thought down the depths of my mind.

“Here, let me help.” I offered, stooping down much quickly and grasping many items at once, dumping it back into the huge carrier bag I took in my other hand.

“Get lost!” Her raspy voice croaked threateningly. “I need no help!”

I ignored that comment and continued picking and dumping. Her eyes widened questioningly. I am the first person to continue helping her despite her rude warnings.

In silence, I picked up all the items and dropped them into her huge carrier bag as she watched my every move intently. As I returned her the filled bag, I saw tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.

“Here, auntie.” I passed her the filled bag as I turned away from her, she weeping her silent tears of gratitude that touched her after many years of isolation.

“Girl,” she called after me. “Thank you.”

I knew she meant more that a word of thanks, and I believe that every single person in this world deserve a piece of kindness. That day that was nothing particularly interesting to me, made her day. It made a change. It was kindness.