Spreading Kindness
and a sweet treat!
I had just sat down in the kitchen to eat lunch when someone knocked on the front door. “Ugh,” I said out loud, thinking I’d have to send away a salesperson. As I approached the door, I could see two giggling teenage girls, who looked to be about the same age as my 14-year-old granddaughter.
“Hi, what’s up?” I said after opening the door. They both spoke, over and around each other, asking if I had any eggs they could borrow. I told them yes, I do, then asked, “Where do you live?”
“Oh, we’re hanging out with Harper across the street, in the tan house. We’re making a cake and don’t have enough eggs.”
“Okay, wait just a minute.” I had one full carton, and another with one egg left, so I put three eggs in one and handed it over to them.
“It’s your lucky day,” I told them. “I made deviled eggs for a July 4th party, so I have extra.”
“Thank you! Can we give you some money?” The shorter of the two held out a five-dollar bill.
“Oh gosh, no,” I replied. “This is what neighbors used to do all the time, borrow eggs or sugar or whatever. I’m happy to share.”
“Yay! That’s so nice!” More giggling ensued.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Maisy,” said the tall girl with long hair. “And I’m Kaitlyn,” said the other.
“Well, my name is Elaine, and please tell Harper if she ever needs anything, I’m here.”
“We will!” And off they went. I watched as they crossed the street.
I left my house to run errands, first to therapy, then the grocery story, and finally, stopped to fill my car’s gas tank. When I got home, I entered the back door to the kitchen, which is our habit, and saw a blue paper plate on the countertop, holding two cake pops and two foil-wrapped chocolates. The girls had brought me a gift! My husband said he heard knocking and found all three, including Harper, holding the plate. They were very disappointed to have missed me and so excited to share with me the things they had made.
What a sweet treat, in every way! I haven’t had anything like this happen in a long time. Our neighbors seem nice, but we only see each other coming and going or doing yard work. The people in the tan house are foster parents, says the sign in front of their house. I’ve seen some kids living there, but I’ve not met any of them. I may never get to know Harper, but I hope all the girls remember the friendly lady who gave them eggs, and I’ll always remember the sweet girls who brought me cake pops.
Love this! All kinds of sweetness in this.
What a wonderful treat! It is the best of what it means to live in community. When I lived in a loft on the top of an 1880's building in the River. Market in downtown KC, before I moved in, couple of residents had already begun building community, a neighborhood. Many of us joined a phone group. People did exactly what those young girls did, asked if anyone had some small item, a battery, a band aide, an aspirin. When I had the flu I texted that I would give a thousand dollars to whoever would bring me a cup of coffee. In fifteen minutes a cup of coffee was delivered to my door (no thousand dollars required). There would be a cooler in the elevator, placed there anonymously, filled with beer and soft drinks when one of us had a birthday. One Christmas at our door appeared a bag with a deconstructed hot toddy in it with all the ingredients, placed there by a neighbor. It does seem to be a rare thing these days, but initiating community with the people in our neighborhoods Is the medicine that might just have the power to begin the process of healing our divisions as a nation.