I was at my grocery store one evening when I noticed a pregnant woman wandering through the aisles. Her clothes were worn, her face carried the weight of worry, and her steps seemed unsure. The store was almost empty, yet she lingered as if fighting an invisible battle within herself.
I closed my counter and walked up to her with a gentle smile. “Can I help you?” I asked softly. Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “I can’t pay… but I need these medicines.”
Without thinking twice, I took the medicines to the cashier and paid for them. She looked at me with eyes full of gratitude, whispered a shaky “thank you,” and walked away. I never saw her again.
Years passed, and that memory faded into the background of my busy life. Until one day, while I was lost in my routine, I felt a tiny hand tug at mine. Startled, I turned around and saw a little child holding out a folded note. My heart raced as I opened it. Inside were just two simple words: “Thank you, Uncle.”
I looked up and saw a woman standing a few feet away, tears streaming down her face. In that instant, I recognized her. She was the same woman I had helped four years ago.
That note was more than just words. It was a reminder that no act of kindness is ever wasted. Sometimes, what you give finds its way back to you when you least expect it.