ONE TINY THING

The cloudless sky above is a heavenly blue. A long white contrail splits it in half. The superjet’s roar is soundless. I know it is roaring but I hear it not. Somewhere up there angels and spirits are drifting to the comfort of eternity with long gone beloved ones. I see them not.

A baby boy dressed in a blue knit suit, blue knit beret, is strapped in his stroller. As his Nanny rides him toward me, I hear her tell him, ‘Make Hi, bobby.’ Bobby doesn’t want to. ‘Make bye-bye, Bobby.’ Bobby pulls his beret off his head and drops it on the ground. The nanny stops immediately, raises the front wheel just a bit, and retrieves the hat. ‘Bad boy, Bobby!’ The hat, soil and all, go right back on the child’s head.

Aw, a little girl holding a Fairy Queen lunch box in one hand and her mother with the other hurry toward the orange school bus waiting with its STOP sign clearly visible. A silver Subaru wants to make the traffic light ahead before it turns red and shoots forward, missing the little curly haired girl and her mother by inches. I am fast and jot down what I could see of the license number NJ515 and give it to the bus driver. She stuffs it in her pocket where it will probably rot and the foolhardy Subaru driver will never get the big ticket he deserves.

The bus pulls out without seeing two boys walking fast with their mother between them. They are not dressed alike but surely are twins, most likely in the first grade. One of the boys is angry, stamps his foot as he yells at the driver, ‘Come back, come back!’ ‘Mommie, now we can’t recite the Pledge to the Flag today. We practiced so hard , didn’t we?’ The twin on the right has tears in his eyes. Giving it only a moment’s thought, I tell the boys not to worry. ‘My car is across the street in the driveway. Mother, may I drive all of you to school? We’ll beat the bus.’ There is some doubt in the mother’s eyes but the smiles on her boys’ faces puts one on hers–and mine.

It was so easy doing such a small thing that I am walking on air the rest of the day. I am taking a vow to do at least one small nice thing for a stranger every day, which may turn out to be a whole week.

Ralph, my beloved husband will be home at his usual six. Ten of six he opens the door, grabs me in a tight bear hug, wraps one leg around my thighs and kisses me passionately. Is this my bonus for the small good deed I did today, I wonder.

Wow! I’m planning to call the school bus line and cancel bus #12 for the next two days. I’ll be making 8 trips each day and can only imagine, hope, Ralph gives me more bear hugs. If not, I won’t be shy but will give them to him.