Day 140
I can’t blame forty. My memory started failing long before I
hit that milestone. The reason I
remember this? My kids happily
remind me.
That’s why I write everything
down. Scraps of paper, napkins,
backs of envelopes, they’re all my friends. In a perfect world, all these notes find their way to my
master calendar, a gargantuan eyesore that takes up the entire real estate of
my desk.
So what does any of this have to
do with kindness? Sharing space
with PTO meeting reminders on my calendar are things happening to friends and
family: the start of a friend’s first round of chemo, my brother’s job
interview, the one-year anniversary of the death of a parent.
I want to acknowledge. Reach out. Offer comfort.
Of course, it doesn’t always work
out. Like this January when I
remembered to purchase a birthday card for my college roommate then forgot to
mail it. Small steps, people,
small steps.
A friend recently shared some
news that I knew would make today particularly difficult. The boys and I pick out a sunny bouquet
of flowers and drop them on her doorstep with a note to let her know we’re
thinking of her.
When you’re having a bad day,
knowing someone cares helps.
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