Thursday, November 13, 2008

Kindness is its own reward

On the bus home today, I sat next to heroes. Wonderful, selfless people who would do anything to help others. Class acts. Doers of good deeds. How did I know this? They said so. A woman. A man. She does her friends' dishes if she sees them in the sink. He gave her a ride home when her car died. She drives her friends home when they're too "fucked up." People ask her all the time, Why are you doing so much for other people? Why wouldn't she help if she could, she usually replies. He agreed. It's the little things that mean so much. He tries to do little nice things for people every day. It means so much, you know. She agreed. It makes her feel good to know that people come to her when they need help. Just like when he gave her a ride when she needed one. It feels good to help. He agreed. It felt good to give her a ride when she needed one. Her appreciation was reward enough. It's the little things. She agreed. The little things make such a difference. They add up. She is glad she can be counted on to consistently help others. He agreed. When he needs a ride home from the airport, he knows that some friends, even though they've been friends for years and really are good people deep down, can't be counted on to pick him up on time, if at all. He can always be counted on to pick his friends up at the airport, if needed, or anything else. He is here to help others. She agreed. Helping others is good, and it makes you feel good. He agreed. Then they got off the bus at their stop, continuing to tell each other about the good work they do for others. It's the little things they add up it's good to be needed warm fuzzy helping agree others help pick up at airport love hugs nice to be needed feels good to help helping good helping helpiness helpism helption helpy help help.
I believe this conversation continues still, and will continue until one of the kind, helpful platonic friends dies of natural causes in the other one's arms. One minute later, the survivor will smile, shed a few tears, look heavenward, ask "Who will pick up David from the airport now?," sigh contentedly, with only a tinge of melancholy, and cease to exist. I will found a church based on their teachings.

1 comment:

Mr. Krotpong said...

Here is a linky for you.