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.