Theft, Part II: Dear Dave

Thank you for helping me unload my cart at Costco this evening.  You didn’t have to do that, but you did.  You asked me if I wanted help, and I hesitated.  I looked at you and saw someone rough around the edges, someone who’d had a hard life.  Someone who might even be mentally ill.  I cursed myself for making a snap judgment based on your appearance.  I could have waved you off, but you seemed determined to help.  You introduced yourself as Dave, and I, in turn, introduced myself, wondering if you had some kind of ulterior motive for helping me.  As you loaded my car, you said, “People don’t really do this very much.”  I said, “You’re right.  They don’t.”  And you replied, “People should really help each other more.”

It took only a minute to transfer the contents of the cart to my car.  I thanked you; you gently patted my shoulder and said, “You’re welcome,” and you continued on your way towards the store.  I watched you with tears in my eyes as you walked away.  I smiled and said aloud, “Blessings to you, Dave.  Many blessings to you.”  You were too far away to hear me, but I want you to know.

I let someone steal my day from me, and you gave it back.  Thank you.