I’d like to think I’m as kind as possible, not in the showy way, but in the ordinary moments that present themselves when you’re paying attention. I don’t go around planning acts of kindness. It’s more like… when something feels right, I do it.
Sometimes I’ll buy a lotto scratch ticket for the cashier at the store, especially if they look tired or like they’ve had a rough day. Just a little spark of hope in their hand, something silly that might brighten a moment. Other times, I’ve bought a coffee for the person behind me in the queue. Not because it’s a big deal, but because it costs little and can mean so much. If someone’s short a few euros in the charity shop, I’ll quietly chip in. No drama. No need for thanks. I don’t even like drawing attention to it.
To be honest, I don’t really think of these things as “acts of kindness.” I just think of them as decent, human things to do. The sort of things Granny Frass would’ve said were common sense, “If you’ve got enough, you share.” She didn’t call it kindness. She just called it living right.
There’s a softness the world forgets sometimes. A pace that’s too fast to notice the small struggles people carry. But every now and then, if you stop and really look, you see it, the woman counting out coins for a book she clearly loves, the man behind the till hiding his weariness with forced cheer, the stranger behind you who maybe needs a reason to believe people still care.
I’m no saint, far from it. But I do believe kindness isn’t about waiting for the perfect moment. It’s about responding to the ones already in front of you.
And if we all did that, even just once in a while, maybe the world wouldn’t feel quite so heavy.
Mae 🧡
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