Sometimes It’s the Little Things

I picked out two primrose plants to add to my grocery shopping this morning.

As I was checking out and bagging my purchases (because that’s the kind of store I shop at.  I’m all about DIY) I put the plants in their own bag– so as not to crush them with canned goods and not get dirt on my tomatoes–and set them aside on the counter.  And promptly forgot them.

I was almost done loading my 10 bags of groceries into my car when a gentleman approached me carrying a plastic bag.  “I think you left these in the store,” he said, handing me my primroses.  I hadn’t even missed them.  But this kind man, who had been behind me in the check out line, and whose groceries were going down the belt on the opposite side of mine, had seen my plants, remembered what I looked like and had gone out into the parking lot to find me.  The plants were only $2. But how very, very nice.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

I Want To Be Just Like Her When I Grow Up

An older woman entered the school where I work and with a tremble in her voice and a shake in her hands said she had come to pick up her grandson.   It was very cold that day.  Was she shivering?  Was it Parkinson’s?  I had no idea but her tremor was significant.

I verified her identity then checked her grandson’s schedule so I could call him to the office.  Turned out he was at lunch. I don’t know this student so I told grandma to come with me, we’d find him in the PAC.  Grandma followed me a ways, then stopped. She said she saw him through the window.  He had his back to us.  I said, “Come.  We’ll get him.”

“Oh no.” she said. “I’ve had a stroke and it makes me shake.”  Her next sentence nearly broke my heart. “I don’t want to embarrass him. You go get him.”  So I did.

What a sweet, thoughtful grandma.  I want to be just like her.