wednesday, october 17, 2001
The girl at the deli and I have become friends. Her name is Miriam—a beautiful, Biblical name which suits her very well. She has long, thick wavy black hair and huge, dark round eyes complimented by long, full lashes (compared to the skimpy ones I have). She taught me how to say “How are you?” in Egyptian, and I taught her how to say so in Korean and Chinese on our first encounter. The Chinese is a little easier to remember, so she’s accustomed herself to using that greeting instead.
I went down to grab lunch yesterday and it’s always nice to see her friendly face and pleasant smile when I walk in. We exchanged our usual pleasantries while I ordered a hearty Tomato Florentine soup and Honey Mustard chicken salad wrap.
When she rang up my tab at the cash register, she asked me, “Do you like cookies?”
“Yes. I love cookies. I'm notorious for having a sweet tooth,” I confessed quietly.
“Me too,” she said with a smile and then threw in a large freshly baked chocolate chip cookie into my bag--free of charge.
Today, I walked over to the street vendor located at the corner of my office building. He recognizes me as well because if I’m not picking up something from the deli, I’m going to him. He's a thin, short little foreign guy with huge plastic-framed glasses. I can't tell what his ethnicity is from his appearance or his accent. He doesn't appear to be Indian or Hispanic or Middle Eastern. But he's definitely foreign.
“The usual?” he asks as I approach him. “Chicken pita?”
“Everything but the white sauce,” we both say at the same time. I laugh. I’m so predictable.
We talk about the weather and his business as I stand waiting for the chicken to cook. Then a young black man approaches me. He tells me he’s homeless and that all he wants is a soda. “Will you please buy me a soda, miss?”
Before I can respond, it appears Mr. Street Vendor knows this individual. “Buddy, I asked you not to bother my customers. Here. What kind of soda do you want?”
He offers the black man the soda of his choice and after receiving it, he kindly thanks the street vendor and walks off. I am touched by Mr. Street Vendor's generosity and kindness. When my pita is ready, I offer to pay for the soda as well.
“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t worry about it. Here. What would you like to drink? On the house today,” he offers with a smile.
It’s amazing what a simple, nice gesture can do for your spirits. What goes around truly does come around. Extend a little generosity and kindness in the things you do and say, and it’s returned in many ways and forms.
Maybe some people find such acts insignificant and meaningless, but it's little things like this that make me happy.
rewind  forward
Copyright © 2001 Rachel Young
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