I realize journaling and blogging are "old school."
Yet, I really want to thank the TWT group for encouraging
Writing down in order to remember.
I found fresh basil at Trader Joe's, bootleg jeans at TJ Maxx, and a cheerful pillow at Home Goods. I was feeling pretty happy when I realized I was thirsty. So, I pulled into a nearby Dunkin Donuts and ordered a hot tea!
"Don't worry," he said stumbling on the words, "this one is on me."
To be honest, no one has ever bought me a "drink" of any kind ever, so this one caught me off guard. "Uhhh...thank you very much," I muttered, adding more than the cost of a cup into the tip jar.
"Ummm..." he stammered with tears welling in his eyes, "you look much like my mother.
I wondered if I should engage in a conversation with a young man who with tears in his eyes that might not be easy in the empty late afternoon store. Something in his quivering voice made me stay.
"Your mom certainly raised a kind son," I offered with a smile.
"She's gone now," he offered, "lost in bombing. I miss her."
"I'm sorry," I offered sincerely, taking a deep breath to regain my composure.
"I come here, but she stayed with my brothers. The bombings in Kharkiv were brutal and they are all gone with all the apartments and schools. Like that" he snapped his fingers, "all gone."
"Your mom would be so proud of you and all you have accomplished," I offered sincerely noticing his Asst Manager badge and thinking he had worked hard to earn it. "I am pretty sure you are working hard and making a difference in the lives of others every day." I added. "I am so glad I stopped here today. You are going to do continue to do amazing things and continue to make her proud."
A part of me wanted to give him a hug, but I settled on a heartfelt handshake across the counter and a wave as I left.
I had tears in my eyes when I got to my car thinking about his experience and how it mirrored those of so many immigrants to our country who give up so much for a chance at something better. As I drove home, I did find myself wondering about his immigration status.
I am still not sure how or why our paths crossed, but he left an imprint on my heart.
6 comments:
That was an act of kindness that made me pause. The young man's story unfolds over a cup of coffee. I am touched by his kindness, the depth of his sorrow, and your willingness to listen.
A beautiful instance of two strangers connecting, even if briefly. Sharing and listening.
Thank you for the story, Anita.
Yesterday, a young man came to deliver a hospital bed for my mother. As he walked through my kitchen, he smelled cinnamon in the coffee I had just made and commented on how wonderful it smelled. I offered him a cup that he could take with him when he was leaving. We began talking as he was putting the bed together and he mentioned that his mom had passed away during Covid at 50 years old and his dad passed away the following year. He was 28 years old and my heart broke for him. I gave him his cup of coffee along with a tip and thanked him for setting up my 96 year-old mom‘s bed so that she could be comfortable.
I guess it was our week for young men from other mothers
❤️
Kindness is perhaps the best gift we have to share.
Oh, wow! What a touching moment to have been gifted a hot tea and to have brought such a lovely memory of this young man's mother in your resemblance. I've had a few times where I have seen someone who reminded me of my mother and it's a reassurance that things are going to be okay.
Anita, what a powerful story. I am so sad for the Ukrainian young man who lost his mother in a bombing. How horrid. With your story and your one small observation, "...I did find myself wondering about his immigration status." you shine a spotlight on the problem we are facing now. Immigrants are needed and offer so much to our country. Who has bewitched us into thinking they are the enemies?
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