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It’s a crisp Sunday morning as I walk through the grocery store parking lot, list in hand. Emerging from the double doors is an elderly gentleman with a cane. He’s carrying a canvas bag with a French baguette peeking out the top.
He pauses when he reaches the sidewalk, closing his eyes as if savoring the day, before his gaze falls upon a younger man — also walking with a cane — struggling to make his way to the entrance. The younger man’s steps are slow, his face pinched with frustration, as though using a cane is something new and unwelcome.
The older man observes him for a heartbeat, then suddenly pumps his fist in triumph, calling out, “You’re killing it with every step, brother!”
The younger man looks up, his grimace transforming into a smile. “Thank you, man. One foot in front of the other, right?”
“Only way to do it!”
Their brief exchange stays with me as I wander the store. Later, I help an elderly woman reach one of the bags hanging above the apples. Her back hurts and she can’t stretch that high anymore, she tells me.
The two men are still on my mind as I get into my car and head home. While waiting to make a left turn onto the busy street, car after car rushes past without letting me through. After several minutes I begin to feel invisible, my signal blinking, unnoticed.
Then a car finally pauses and I glance over to see the driver, a bearded man with a teenager in the passenger seat. He raises his fingers without taking his hands off the steering wheel, signaling that he’s noticed me and will let me through. The young woman smiles and gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Waving my thanks, I merge onto the road feeling grateful for their courtesy.
And I realize that simple actions like these are the quiet threads that bind us together. In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, these moments of unity are what ground us, reminding us that we are seen. That’s all any of us really want, isn’t it?
It brings to mind a story I once read in the New York Times, about gifting coffee to strangers. In Italy, it's called caffè sospeso, which is Italian for 'suspended coffee'.
The tradition began in a café in Naples during World War II and continues today. Someone orders five coffees: two for themselves, and three hanging. A little while later, another group orders seven: three for themselves, and four hanging.
Eventually, a man dressed in threadbare clothes, his face weathered, approaches the counter and quietly asks, “Do you have any coffee hanging?”
“Yes, we do,” the barista replies, handing him a cup of suspended coffee.
It’s the sort of generosity that echoes long after the gesture is made, much like the sandwich shop in my town that lets customers buy meals for others, “suspended coffee” style. With just a few minutes, anyone can offer a stranger the dignity of a warm meal and a full belly. Something most of us take for granted.
Holding the door for someone, saying “Have a nice day” to the cashier, letting another car merge in front of you in traffic — these are the fleeting things that stitch together the fabric of our daily lives. And they have the potential to transform the way we view the world.
Once, some twenty years ago, I fell while rushing to catch a train in New York City. The contents of my bag spilled across the concrete and my phone skittered toward the edge of the tracks. The crowd pushed by as I scrambled to gather my things, then a pair of brown loafers stopped in front of me and a gentleman’s voice asked, “Are you ok?”
I looked up and he offered a hand to help me rise while his son gathered my belongings, then handed them back to me. I still remember their faces. Since that day I think about them whenever I see someone struggling. Then I too stop and offer assistance.
In a world where we are more digitally connected than ever, we have never been further apart. It’s too easy to fire off an annoyed email, to scroll past someone’s struggles without acknowledgment. We live side by side, but how often do we really see each other?
The Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius once reflected that human beings are born for each other. He thought that we are destined to work together the way our hands and eyes do — and that above all, we must be kind.
“I am bound to do good to my fellow creatures,” he wrote. “What brings no benefit to the hive brings none to the bee.” In other words, the well-being of the individual (the bee) is tied to the health of the collective (the hive).
Small courtesies have the power to connect us to our fellow human beings and remind us that we’re not alone. They are like pebbles dropped into a still pond, creating ripples that continue outwards.
Have you ever received an unexpected kindness and found yourself paying it forward later that same day? It’s like that.
Perhaps today — perhaps every day — we can strive to be the pebble.
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Very nicely written. Thank you!
Beautifully written, Christina! ❤️