Kindness In New York City

I was walking through downtown New York City, window-shopping for something to wear for my 40th birthday party. Just because I was getting old doesn't mean I had to neglect myself. At Lord and Taylor, the most gorgeous turquoise colored scarf caught my eye. It would be perfect with my black chiffon dress.

“Help!” I heard an elder woman cry. She was lying on the ground. I ran to help her; I managed to get her to her feet. “I was robbed,” she said pointing across the street to a man covered in white paint, and ripped pants.

“I’ll call the police, ma’am and we can report this at once.”

“He took every last cent I had,” she said her fragile face bowed to the side walk. “I have no money to get home now.”

“Here let me help you out,” I said pulling out a twenty dollar note and handing it to the frail soul sitting in front of me.

“I can’t accept your generosity,” she said, handing it back to me. “Thanks for your kindness.”

“At least let me assist you home,” I assisted.

“Okay, you are just too kind to me,” she said.

The next two blocks we walked in silence when she stopped in front of a park and stared for a few minutes.

“I remember taking my granddaughter here when she was small lass,” she said. “Now she rarely ever comes to see me anymore.”

I didn’t know what to say. Soon the elder lady began to walk again when we stopped in front of an older character home.

“Thank you for kindness,” she said as she climbed the steps to her house.
When she entered her house; I walked up the steps, placed the twenty dollar note in the mailbox, and walked away.