Years ago, I discovered a scrawny, very pregnant cat had snuck into my shed and was clearly preparing it for her litter. I’m not a cat person and had no desire for pets, but the poor girl looked so pathetic, I didn’t have the heart to kick her out either. I was going to call animal control, but from what I was told, it was likely that mom, as a feral cat that would be hard to rehome, would be euthanized as soon as the kittens were weaned. So, I ended up deciding not to repair the hole the cat used to get into my shed and resolved myself to the fact that it was going to be her home from here on out.

Once the kittens were born, I had a non-profit come in to trap and spay/neuter everyone before releasing them back into the shed. Whenever I have the hose out, I’ll fill up a few bowls with water for the cats, and occasionally, when it’s really nasty outside, I’ll take them a little food to supplement what they can catch on their own, but otherwise, the cats and I mostly ignore each other.

Eventually, a new batch of kittens showed up in my yard. I paid so little attention to my furry squatters that I’m not sure if this was the result of a failure to spay one of the original cats or if we had a foreign cat join my little colony. Other than resolving to have the nonprofit come back for a second round of spaying, I begrudgingly accepted the new addition to the fur squad.

Then one day, I noticed yet another stray, except this time the stray was human. A boy would show up right after the elementary school bus dropped kids off in our neighborhood and would try to play with the kittens. I had no problem with a brief visit, but that wasn’t what this was. Day after day, the kid would show up, encroaching further into my yard and staying for longer and longer periods until it reached the point, I was getting a little uncomfortable with the extended visits.

Eventually, I went out to speak to [Boy]. As soon as he saw me, he tried to flee out of my yard until I called out to him. Then he froze and turned to me, immediately starting to apologize for being there and looking terrified. He was so afraid that I felt unreasonably guilty, as if I had done something wrong to upset the boy so much. I rushed to assure him he wasn’t in trouble and that I just wanted to talk. I tried sitting down to make myself less imposing and did everything else I could think of to make [Boy] comfortable, but he was still clearly afraid of me.

Then one of the kittens slinked towards [Boy], which surprised me. The cats never approached me; I was lucky if they decided they trusted me enough not to actively flee from me. [Boy] looked longingly at the kitten, then fearfully up at me until I told him he was allowed to pet the kitten. That made him more comfortable, and he finally started speaking with me openly.

He told me his mom and he had left his dad recently and were staying at a friend’s house, and he just wanted to visit my cats. I asked if his mom would be worried about him getting home so late since he was spending so long in my yard, but he told me his mom didn’t get home until long after he did, so she wouldn’t notice.

This concerned me a bit because the boy looked way too young to be home alone for any length of time. I was half right there; he turned out to be seven despite my originally guessing him to be much younger based on his size. That still meant he was one year younger than the minimum age a child was legally allowed to be home alone without supervision in my state; I looked it up.

Eventually, I asked to escort [Boy] home, and once I knew where he lived, I came back later to visit his mom. [Mom]’s response to my visit was somewhere between confused and afraid that I’d be asking about her and her son. I’d eventually learn that [Boy]’s biological father had been emotionally abusive towards [Mom]. It had started out as mostly subtle gaslighting but had escalated once the father started drinking more regularly. Once [mom] realized how this was impacting [Boy], she fled with nothing more than a pack of clothes for each of them to live with a friend. [Mom] had no money and had to take whatever minimum wage job she could manage, and was afraid to try to collect child support for fear that it would increase the odds of the father trying to demand contact with [Boy]. [Boy]’s immediately trying to apologize and flee from me was apparently not a fluke either, I was told he was like that with any large man he didn’t know. Having only his dad as a male role model had apparently taught [Boy] some unfortunate lessons about how to expect other men to behave.

I asked about [Boy] being home alone, but [Mom] couldn’t afford any kind of daycare at the time. I pointed out, as politely as I could, that it wasn’t allowed to have a child that young unsupervised, and she seemed to take this as a threat. She pleaded with me not to report them.

Once I convinced [Mom] I wasn’t trying to threaten her and just wanted to make sure [Boy] was cared for, she settled down some, and we ended up coming to an agreement.

Since [Boy] was already spending his afternoons at my house anyway, we would make that official, and I’d watch him until she got home. He was to come to my door, not my backyard shed, every evening after school.

When he arrived, he would get a snack while he did his homework. I quickly learned he needed a structured time to do homework, or it would never get done. Only after his snack and homework were done was he allowed to go out to visit the felines, but he also got to take out a slice of ham with him to break up and feed to the kittens.

If he had done something special, like getting a good grade on a test, he would earn the right to take out an extra slice with him. I always found it amusing just how excited he would get for as simple a reward as an extra slice of meat, but he clearly considered it a reward worth aspiring towards.

He always made sure the kittens each got their fair share of food when he fed them. Before long, not only would they come to him when he called, but they would line up and take turns being fed one at a time, patiently waiting until he got to them. I was surprised at how well he managed to train them.

I’d never attempted to home the first batch of kittens since they were too feral, but the batch raised by [Boy] were so friendly that together we managed to find new homes for many of them; though [Boy] insisted he be there when a kitten was picked up so he could say goodbye and give the new owners a detailed summary of the kittens every trait and behavioral quirk.

It was really amazing getting to watch [Boy] go from the timid, scared kid that I first met to the happy, outgoing child he became, always talking my ear off about every little thing that happened to him that day. Eventually, [Mom] would get a home of her own, and so she and [Boy] would move away, and I was surprised just how much I missed our afternoons together. [Boy] still insists [mom] bring him for occasional visits even now. Though to this day I’m still not sure whether [Boy] is coming to visit me or the cats.

A group of six church kids comes in and sits in my section, I’m thinking maybe a youth group or something. They all order water and maybe one appetizer for the whole table. That’s it. I am pretty annoyed to serve them, but I also have low expectations for the after-church crowd. 

After half an hour, they call me over to the table.

Church Kids: “Is there anything you’d like us to pray about?”

Me: “Uh… you can pray for me to find a better job?”

They take me seriously and begin praying for ten minutes. After that, they get their check and leave. 

They tipped me $70. Not a single religious pamphlet in sight! Now I hope to see those kids next Sunday!

My daughter and I are on vacation. We have afternoon tickets for a koala bear (and other animals) park. We decided to leave early for the bus so we could walk slowly and stop at places when we wanted. We got to the bus stop forty minutes early, with no one else there yet. As we waited, more people showed up.

The bus finally arrived, and about ten people swarmed to the bus doors ahead of us. Not totally polite, but to us, it didn’t matter because we would still get a seat.

Then a guy’s voice beside us said loudly to the gathering:

Guy: “These two women were here first. We should let them get on first.”

What a surprise. But you know what? We did take the front seats on one side of the bus. Best thing. The driver kept up a conversation with the people in the front four rows (probably only ones who could hear over the bus noise). Entertaining as well as throwing in some educational tidbits.

Best bus ride for sure.

It’s wall-to-wall customers with every machine going and every barista moving at full speed. The lobby feels like a hive, and we’re just trying to keep the line from buzzing out of control.

One guy, red in the face, storms up to the counter.

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I want a refund! Now!”

My coworker takes him aside, handles it as calmly as possible, and he leaves in a huff. The air feels heavier for a moment.

I finish the next drink and call out the name. A woman steps forward, smiling kindly.

Woman: “You guys are clearly very busy, and it’s so unfair for that man to give you a hard time. I put a big tip in your jar. Keep up the good work.”

Her words land like a breath of fresh air. In the middle of the chaos, she gives me something better than coffee, a reminder that most people are kind. And with that, I find the energy to push through the rush.

My mum has been a teacher for children with disabilities for over thirty years. She loves her job and is amazing at it. For her sixtieth birthday, her students, along with another teacher, surprise her with a handmade gift: a huge garland made of paper hearts. Some of the students have written messages on them like “I like you” and “You’re my favourite teacher.”

To celebrate, she decides to take her class out for breakfast. A few weeks earlier, another teacher had taken their students to IKEA for breakfast, and my mum’s class had been asking if they could go too. She agrees, and they plan the trip using public transport.

Halfway there, the bus suddenly stops. The driver announces that due to a technical fault, the bus won’t continue, and the next one will come in an hour.

With no IKEA in sight and a group of disappointed (and hungry) kids, my mom has to think fast. She remembers another furniture store nearby, part of a smaller, national chain, and gives them a call.

To her relief, they do offer breakfast, and they’re happy to welcome the group. It turns out to be a great decision: the breakfast is delicious, the atmosphere is calm, and the children are having a wonderful time. My mum even thinks it’s better than what IKEA would have offered.
When she goes to pay, the total is surprisingly low.

Mum: “Excuse me… I think something’s wrong with the bill?”

The waitress quietly pulls her aside and gestures toward an elderly gentleman sitting near the window.

Waitress: “That gentleman is here every morning for breakfast. He asked to cover half your bill. I don’t know if I’m technically supposed to tell you, but I think he’d be happy to speak with you.”

My mum walks over, touched and a little stunned.

Mum: “Thank you so much. That’s incredibly generous.”

Gentleman: “It was my pleasure. Watching you with those children; you’re amazing with them.”

Mum: “It’s my sixtieth birthday today. The kids wanted to go to IKEA, but the bus broke down. Honestly, this has been even better.”

Gentleman: “It is? Well then, happy birthday! Sixty years of a life spent helping others is worth celebrating. I’m glad I could be a small part of your day.”

They chat for a few minutes while the children finish eating. Then one of the students notices a small play area and asks to go. My mum joins them to supervise.

Before they leave, one of the kids spots a soft serve machine, his favorite.

Student: “Can we have some ice cream before we go?”

Mum: “If you help tidy up first!”

Within minutes, the play area is spotless, tidier than before they arrived.

The children line up for their ice cream, and when my mum takes out her wallet again, the waitress stops her.

Waitress: “With all the hard work you’ve done, you absolutely deserve this. You’re our honorary employees for the day. This is your wage.”

The students are glowing with pride. My mum is nearly in tears.

She keeps saying afterward, “I wish I could turn sixty more than once.”