During the last month, I got a stomach bug that laid me low. It took a long time to recover energy. On the fourth lethargic day, feeling about 85%, I walked up the stairs for something and stopped near the top. I sat down in the sun and a moment later, I laid my head on the step above me. I was a cat in the sunshine, stretched out to feel the warmth on my back.
For a little backstory, I’ve lived for over 42 years in a 70-year-old mid-century-modern house with lots of windows. The slanted windows in front of the stairs stretch from ceiling to floor. There are rarely-pulled curtains on other windows, but none on the stair windows. It doesn’t bother me that people can see in. I love the light; it lifts my spirits.
I’m outside nearly every day, working in the yard picking up sticks, sweeping the sidewalk, watering flowers in planters, or just crossing the street to walk the neighborhood. For no reason, I wave at cars that pass, and most drivers wave back.
On the day I was lying in the sun on the stairs, I must have dozed off. I was awakened by tapping on the stair window. A woman I’d never seen before stood there. I opened the door to her, and she asked, “Are you okay?” I nodded and she continued, “I work at the hospital, so I drive by your house every day on my way to work.” She held out the badge that hung from a lanyard around her neck. I figured for years she had seen me outside or through the many windows.
“I saw you on the stairs, and I thought you might have collapsed. I turned around and came back, and you hadn’t moved, so I turned around again.” She pointed to my drive where she’d parked. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
I thanked her profusely and introduced myself and learned her name was Jennifer.
“I’m glad you’re fine,” Jennifer said, and then she hurried down the sidewalk to her white SUV to capture the rest of her remaining lunch break. I don’t know cars except by shape and color, but I’ll be waving at every white SUV I see and hope this kind stranger is driving one.
Surely, I’ve helped strangers in my life, but all I can remember lately is offering to carry a bag of groceries for a woman with a walker. She said she didn’t need help. I’ve held the door for people walking behind me into a building, but that’s common courtesy. And I’ve let people go in front of me at the grocery store if they only had a few items to my full cart. But again, that’s just being considerate.
Strangers have sure helped me. Although Dad taught me how to change a tire before I got my driver’s license, I’ve never had to do it. Someone always stopped to change it for me. Same for when I ran out of gas. (Broken gas gauge, not exactly negligence on my part.) Strangers—all.
I think most people have a good heart. By that I mean 99.999%. That we teach our kids to fear strangers doesn’t feel right to me. I think they should be taught to assess a person by their actions and trust their gut. Aren’t first impressions usually right? But that’s beside the point.
My point is I want to be more like Jennifer, who turned her car around to check on a stranger. I guess that’s the treat-others-like-you-want-to-be-treated philosophy, which I’ve (hmm, not always successfully) tried to live by.
Tell me, when did you help out a stranger or when did a stranger help you?*
*Disclaimer: I sometimes use a friend’s experience in a novel. I never identify the friend, of course. I write fiction, so I tweak the experience to fit the character I give it to. Just for you to know.
