Your morning thought for today:
The smallest good deed is better than the greatest intention.

Please welcome a new writer today -- Daniel James from Idaho who offers us *An Award Winning Heartwarmer*. You may relate with his experience. Thanks Daniel. We look forward to more of your stories.

I was covering the hospital registration desk at lunch. A tall, striking, angular woman came hesitantly to my window. I had the distinct impression she would have gone to another window, had that option been available. Sometimes, for certain conditions or tests, some women subtly display discomfort in having a man take information from them.

As she sat down, our eyes met. She had sad, frightened eyes. She looked quickly down. The physician's order she handed to me was for a lab test, and the diagnosis was HIV - AIDS.

As we went through the registration for the test, her circumstances became clearer to me. Her information was not on our computer, usually the sign of a healthy person or a newcomer to the area.

"Address?"
"124 B Street, Apartment #4," she said.
"Telephone?"
"Ahhh... let me think... I just had it installed and never had to call it," she said as she smiled slightly.

New to the area, living in a simple, functional, but not upscale apartment, I thought.

"Who can we list at an emergency contact?"
"Well, I have a friend who lives in... " and she named a state a thousand miles away.
No local support. Newly diagnosed with HIV.

As I had her sign the hospital forms, she said quietly, "you'll tell them to be careful when they do the test? To wear gloves... I don't want anyone else..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down.

"There won't be a problem," I said. "They glove up routinely with everyone." She looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her eyes rimmed with tears, and her chin quivered just a bit. But she did not cry. Bravely she composed herself.

I smiled, and if her hand would have been on the desk, I know I would have had the urge to reach across and pat it reassuringly. I would not, of course, but I would have had the urge. But her hands were folded on her lap. I wanted to tell her it would be OK, but those would have been hollow words. And a lie. I, of course, would not tell her of my other thoughts-- the memories of a horrible death recently suffered by a close friend with HIV. Even with today's wonder drugs, she faced much uncertainty.

So I simply said, "Let me walk you back." Normally I only do this for people who truly need physical assistance. But somehow I felt a connection with this woman.

I walked around the counter, and scooted out the chair for her as she stood up. I motioned her towards the lab with a sweep of my hand. We made sparse small talk as we walked down the hallway. As I opened the door for her to enter the waiting area of the lab, she paused momentarily, and our eyes met once again. We looked at each other for what was a moment too long to be comfortable. Every instinct told me to reach out, gently wrap my arms around her, and draw her head close to my chest, and show her that someone cared. The length of the look into each other's eyes left us both awkward, even though it was only a second or two. I looked away for an instant and then back to those winsome eyes.

"Take care," I said.
"I will, thanks."

And she was gone from my life.

There are some of us who will look back on our lives as we lay near death, and regret some of the things we did in this life. And there are some of us who will look back on our lives and regret the things we did not do. I view not giving that hug -- not making a basic, caring, human gesture as one of my greatest failures in this life.

You can be certain as I lay in that twilight at the margin of life and death, be that in 10 days or 10,000 days, I will be regretting the hug I did not give.

May God bless her and forgive me.

by: Daniel James

Daniel James' vocation is a manager in a health care organization in Idaho. His avocation is wresting with the wily word. He is an observer of nature and human nature, and aspires to one day be wise.

This story may not be reproduced in any way, without the author's written permission.

?