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All the way home and for much of that night, I thought about that lonely man with the shopping cart and his outrage at being called an animal. He was indignant and afraid and desperate for it not to be true and, maybe for just a moment, he was reassured it was not true because some random older woman on the sidewalk told him so. Life is so precarious sometimes.

Later that night, lying in bed, I told my husband, Peter, about the man and what I’d said.

“You are kind,” Peter told me.

I don’t know if that’s true or not but I know for certain that strangers have helped me when I needed help, and kind words have changed my day from terrible to something better, something more hopeful. I think of the many people I can never pay back and I hope I can pay forward some of the kindness I’ve been shown over all the years of my life.

More than anything, when I think about that lonely man fighting off his demons, I realize I have no idea how it feels to face anything as large or as terrifying as that man faces every day. And for that, I am terribly –and selfishly – grateful. Till next time.