I work at a restaurant, and whenever I see a pregnant woman, I quietly give her an extra portion of food. Some people might wonder why.
It’s because of a story my mom once told me. When she was pregnant with me, she was struggling badly—no money, barely enough to eat. One day, a waiter noticed her. He brought her an extra meal, and even packed hot soup to take home. That simple act of kindness meant the world to her in that moment.
Now, years later, I honor that memory. I don’t know the names of the women I help, and they’ll probably never know why I do it. But it’s my way of keeping that kindness alive—just like the stranger who once made my mother’s hardest days feel a little lighter.
Credit to the rightful owner~