Last night I started coughing that annoying dry cough that makes you feel like you’re a smoker when in fact you are not. I pulled myself out of bed to get a glass of water after several rounds of coughing. As I gulped water in the bathroom, I heard some rumbling around our bedroom. I walked in to see my husband, John, filling our Hello Kitty (how can you not love Kitty?) humidifier. My heart melted.
If any of you reading this are young single girls, this is the kind of man you want. As soon as he heard me coughing, he thought of something that could help me, and he got out of bed and took care of it. Falling back asleep, I watched the glow of our humidifier and felt so loved.
We often think goodness has to be something grand, but the smallest gestures have the biggest impact. I saw another example of this tonight when we had dinner with my parents at a local barbecue joint they frequent in my hometown. It’s a casual spot that attracts older folks because it’s familiar and inexpensive. It’s not my favorite place, but it brings me back to reality when I go there, plus the hush puppies are to die for. Tonight was no exception.
Our waitress was so patient and kind with our order. (Graydon asked specific questions about the mac and cheese, and my parents couldn’t decide on whether or not to split the special or which salad dressing they wanted.) Another lady was helping her. I later learned that she was the water and tea lady, as her mission was to make sure no one’s glasses were empty.
When dad was paying the bill, he asked the water and tea lady if she relied on tips. She explained that she didn’t because she was a minimum wage employee and that the waitresses made $2.50 an hour, making tips crucial to them.
Needless to say, it’s hard to make a living with a wage like that, but that’s a blog for another time. What touched me was when my dad asked if the water and tea lady could accept tips. She said that she could if it was handed directly to her. Dad proceeded to hand her some rolled up dollar bills.
My parents aren’t perfect, but they’re good people. They struggle with various health issues, but they still deliver Meals on Wheels to folks who can no longer leave their homes, shut-ins we call them in the country, and they manage to visit people in nursing homes. I don’t need to tell you how much that means to people and their families, how much it means to me.
My dad thinking to tip the lady who usually isn’t tipped, but who made sure I had hot water all through dinner for my dry throat, is goodness. Her cheerful demeanor, despite the wrap on her wrist for carpal tunnel, is goodness. The other waitress offering to make me hot chocolate for my throat is goodness. My husband stumbling through the night to find the Hello Kitty humidifier so that I could sleep is goodness.
I’m happy to report that my coughing is going away and that I’m sounding less like Demi Moore and more like Lori. I hope to sleep soundly through the night, and if I do, I’ll know it’s because of the doses of goodness I was given today.