(I wake up feeling sick and miserable, but I have to work, so I drag my sick carcass in. I get in late and overall feel bad. A few hours into my shift, an older lady comes in with a smile, saying she wants to pay her bill in her unit. I say it’s no problem, but I sound stuffed up and I sniffle and croak. I apologize for being sick and that I probably look and sound gross. The woman looks at me.)

Customer: “Oh, honey, no! You’re fine. You’re sick, and you look it, but there’s nothing wrong with that; you can’t help it. Really, it’s fine.”

Me: *giving her a smile* “Thank you.”

(I process her bill and as I am printing a receipt:)

Me: “I don’t know. It’s probably the change in weather. I’m a scrawny guy; I get cold easily.”

(I laugh it off and the woman only looks at me with concern.)

Customer: “Maybe it’s allergies; have you thought of that? Well, there is a dollar store up the road, very cheap. You should get some allergy medication, and if that doesn’t work, buy some cold medicine. That should do the trick!”

Me: “Why, thank you. I should be going to lunch here soon; perhaps I’ll run up there.”

(She nods, takes her receipt, and walks to the door before turning around.)

Customer: “I believe in being kind and understanding to people; we all share the same planet, after all.”

(I agree and thank her for the advice and bid her a good day. About twenty minutes go by and the woman reappears. I turn to ask her what she needs as she walks in, and she smiles and hands me a bag.)

Customer: “Here you go, dear. That should help you out!”

(I look inside and there is allergy medicine and two boxes of cold medicine!)

Me: *shocked but grateful* “Oh, wow! Thank you! You really didn’t have to!”

(I thank her profusely, but she only shakes her head and says:)

Customer: “Kindness goes a long way. We all share this place, so we should take care of each other. Get well soon, dear!”

(And with that, she gave me another smile and left. Blessed be to that kind woman. She has no idea how much she made my day and restored just a little faith.)

After living in the same suburban city in Georgia for over 25 years, I find myself relocating to Miami, Florida, for my husband’s new job. We don’t have much time to look for a place to live, so we choose an affordable apartment close to his job.

We move into a second-floor apartment in a six-story building, knowing nothing about the neighborhood. Shortly after moving in I hear the fire alarm. I go outside to discover smoke pouring from one of the sixth-floor apartments. One of the neighbors is a teenage girl, who is absolutely hysterical. She accidentally started the fire when she forgot about a pot of food she had left on the stove. She panicked and ran out of the apartment, forgetting that her father was still inside napping.

As some of the neighbors are trying to calm the girl, the father, who is a very tall, very large man, emerges from the building, a bit dazed, but unharmed. Unfortunately, he is still wearing the clothes he was napping in: a t-shirt and boxer shorts.

While my neighbors and I are waiting for the fire department to tend to the fire — the apartment is a complete loss — my next-door neighbor, who is also a very tall, very large man, comes home. He speaks to his wife, who fills him in on the situation. My next-door neighbor sees the sixth-floor dad, and then goes to his car and retrieves several shopping bags from a clothing store. He hands him the shopping bags, saying, “Here. These are for you.”

The sixth-floor dad protests that he can’t take his new clothes. The next door neighbour makes the obvious statement that he needs them more right now.

And that is how I learned what kind of neighbors I had.

(I’m working behind the counter at a bookstore. My mother and severely autistic brother have come in to check my scheduled lunch times so we can meet later. A customer comes up to the counter with a novelty cookbook, called “The Marmite Cookbook.” Marmite is extremely popular in the UK. It is a yeast extract product that you either love or hate. It has an extremely potent taste.)

Brother: “Marmite! Marmite! MARMITE!”

Customer: “I take it that you like marmite, young man?”

Brother: “MARMITE!”

Mother: “Sorry about that; he can get a bit loud when he’s excited.”

Customer: “It’s okay.” *turns to brother* “Do you want to know a secret?”

Brother: “Marmite.” *it’s one of the only three words he likes to say*

Customer: “I love marmite, too!”

(The man proceeds to open his rucksack and he pulls out a bar of chocolate.)

Customer: “Is this okay?”

(My mother nods yes, and turns over the chocolate bar. It’s a marmite chocolate bar, something I have never seen before. My brother throws himself at the man in a hug and my mother starts crying.)

Customer: “Are you okay, ma’am?”

(My mother then explained that my brother had never initiated a hug, in his life. My mum and I both blubbered like babies and thanked the man. Thank you to the kind stranger that took five minutes to speak to my brother, even though at 6’4”, loud. and autistic, people can find him intimidating!)

(I stop in the pharmacy to get some medications for my husband, who recently lost his job because of a medical condition. We were already on income support because I am physically disabled and this has been a hard hit to our income. We just found out the income support system is about to revoke our benefits unless we can prove that he does not willfully leave his job by the end of the month. With a toddler and both of us needing the medical coverage, this is terrifying. Our normal doctor is on maternity leave until January of next year and her covers won’t help us because they don’t want to deal with the system. The same story goes with every doctor we see. They all insist they need to have been seeing us for at least three months before they’ll even consider it. Neither of us have any family or support, as we were both runaways from abuse. By this point, I am counting change, trying to figure out if I have enough to get the medication we both desperately need.)

Stranger: *taps me on the shoulder* “Hey, let me get that for you.” *tries to shove a ten dollar bill in my hand*

Me: *close to tears* “Oh, no! I really can’t. Thanks, anyway.” *tries to give it back*

Stranger: “Nah, keep it. Or, hey, tell you what…” *hands me a twenty and takes the ten back* “There. Fair trade.”

(By now I was seriously crying and didn’t notice the older man’s mother coming up beside me. Gently she took me by the elbow and they both lead me away from the pharmacy counter. They started asking me questions and I admitted that we were struggling and how scared I was. They started brainstorming between the two of them and gave me numbers to doctors they trusted. They took my email and gave me their phone numbers just in case. As a last thing, they took the twenty-dollar bill, and the man shoved a bunch of money into my bag, saying he wouldn’t take no for an answer and just to pass it on when I had the chance to help someone else. I realized that yes, I needed that help right then. I stopped fighting, figuring it was at most forty bucks but would help pay my kid’s school fees. When I got home and took the money out, I was shocked to see that instead of just a small amount, he’d put five hundred dollars into my bag. That money did help keep us afloat for the next week as we paid bills. We finally found a doctor willing to help us and our income has since stabilized. I told the stranger, who is now a supporter and friend, that we’d pay him back. He refused and told me to help others, instead. I plan to.)

(I am a sophomore in high school, and my sister has just left for college on the other side of the country. I miss her and am having a horrible day, having just figured out that I failed a big test in school. It is freezing cold outside, and I have depression and anxiety, so I am about to start crying. I have left my wallet at home, so I have to use the limited cash I had to pay for the bus fare. I get on the bus and put in my $1.10. The bus driver then rudely tells me that the fare has gone up recently, and that I need another $0.35. I only have a few pennies on me. I have put in my last dollar, and it will be getting dark soon, so I can’t wait for another bus. I am standing there, completely unsure what to do. Both my parents are working, so I can’t call either of them for a ride home.)

Woman: *puts the needed $0.35 cents into the machine*

Me: *shocked that someone is actually nice to the sobbing teenager*

Woman: *hands me a $1* “You look like you need a drink.”

Me: *completely missing the joke* “I’m 16…”

(That act of kindness helped me remember to start carrying $5 with me at all times, and my sister has recently come home for the summer from college. I wish I could thank the lady that helped me when I was at such a low point in my life.)