I work as a waitress in a small restaurant. Today, a mother walked in with her little boy. She ordered just a single pastry. At first, I didn’t think much of it and went back to my work.
But a little later, when I was serving them, I overheard something that broke me inside. The boy was pleading with his mom: “Mom, please… at least take one bite. It’s my birthday.”
The mother smiled weakly and said, “Son, you love this. You enjoy it. When my salary comes, we’ll celebrate again. Just enjoy your birthday today.”
I froze for a moment, holding back my tears. I didn’t say anything. I just continued working, but my heart was no longer the same.
When it was time for their bill, I quietly slipped away, packed two 1-kg cakes, twenty patties, and placed $100 cash inside. I handed it to them along with their check.
Surprised, they said, “We didn’t order this.”
I smiled and told them, “One of the customers heard your story and ordered it for you.”
They both began crying right there in front of me. I didn’t tell them the truth—that it was me. I didn’t need the credit. I just wanted them to have a real birthday memory, something more than a single pastry.
And then came the part that shattered me completely. The boy asked me to get change for the $100. When I returned, he placed a crumpled $5 bill in my hand and said, “This is your tip.”
I couldn’t hold back. I bent down, hugged him tight, and whispered a blessing in my heart.
That little boy will never know… but he gave me far more than $5. He gave me a memory I’ll carry for the rest of my life.
Source -Hrtwarming