The Unselfish Act

Word count 729

THE UNSELFISH ACT

As I was growing up, my family didn't have a lot of money. We weren't poor by any means. We always had food and clothing, but there never seemed to be a lot extra at the end of the month. My parents tried to shield their children from this, but we knew. We just figured that was normal. Despite this, my parents seemed to always be taking care of the woman at the end of the road. Our road opened up onto a very busy county road. Ms. Hillcrest's house was across the street from where our road intersected with the county road. She lived there with her three kids. I never was allowed to go up there. My mother did, and was always taking a bag of groceries to their house. Most of my hand-me-down clothes ended up at the Hillcrests'. At Christmas time it was bags of toys. As I grew older, I learned to respect what my parents did. They had adopted Ms. Hillcrest to take care of.

One time when I was supposed to be asleep in my bed, I overheard my parents talking. I learned that Ms Hillcrest had a drug problem and had been in and out of rehab. Their house was in pretty sad shape. When ever I saw her kids in their yard, they always looked dirty with ragged clothes. Nancy, as my parents referred to Ms Hillcrest, wasn't much of a mother. As a mater of fact, when I was around 14, her kids were taken away by the state. My parents still took care of her. She died when I was 18 from an apparent overdose. There were few people at the funeral. I would guess no more than a dozen and six were from my family.

She seemed to have a terrible life. I am sure there is a story or reason she lived as she did. What it was, I never knew. What puzzled me was the way my parents took care of her. I did admire them for it, but she never seemed to try and help herself. My question was, why her? Of all the people in the world, why this woman? What did she mean to them?

After I was a grown man and my mother's health was failing, I spent a lot of time just being with her and talking. That is when she told me the story of Ms Hillcrest.

She said when I was five, I was in the front yard playing with my brothers. She was on the front porch reading a book and keeping an eye on us. When she looked up, I was on the road, two or three houses down and headed toward the county road. She yelled and told me to come back, but I just laughed and kept running. I was a typical boy. My mother was seven months pregnant with my youngest brother at the time. No matter how hard she ran, she couldn't catch me. I can't imagine the fear that struck my mother's heart when she seen the 18 wheel semi-truck rolling down the county road, knowing if I didn't stop I would be killed. I never saw the truck, and only kept laughing at the imaginary game I was playing with my mother. She said I stopped in the middle of the road when I heard the screeching tires of the truck. She knew it was too late to get to me.

Ms Hillcrest was on her porch and witnessed the whole thing. A heart beat before the truck plowed me down, I was scooped up by her as she dove across the road. We landed in a ditch, I was unharmed, but she broke her arm.

Nancy Hillcrest's life was rather sad. She came and went without anyone really noticing. She lived in poverty, lost her kids and eventually her life, to her drug habit. If her funeral was an example of her life; her children didn't even attend.

I still visit her grave site that has the nice stone marker my parents bought. I always thank her, and pray that her soul has found the peace she never knew in life.

Despite her failures, her one unselfish act saved the life of a child. For that, she will always be my Hero.