January was a super rough month for me. I accepted a new position at work and took two trips back-to-back (not intentionally) that kept me away from my girls for about 8 days (except for a short 27-hour reprieve). I haven’t been writing. I haven’t been exercising much. I haven’t been taking very good care of myself. While on my second trip, someone reminded me of the saying, “stay humble, work hard, and be kind.” I’ve heard that saying before, of course. But I guess I never really thought about the meaning.  Well, I’ll tell you what: I needed kindness this past month, and I really needed it while traveling. Fortunately for me, I have been surrounded by kind people.

While traveling home from my work trip, I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I was traveling alone with way too much baggage, literally and figuratively. Literal baggage: I had an overstuffed carryon, a “personal item” backpack that was almost as large as my carryon, two breast pumps, and a cooler with frozen milk and freezer packs. Emotional baggage: I was moody, frustrated, homesick, and depressed. I’d been away from  home too long and struggling with some other personal demons.  I was pumping in airport bathrooms. I was anxious and nervous. I was overwhelmed with my life. Basically, I was a mess. I was on the brink of bursting into tears in an airport in front of strangers.  If it wasn’t for the kindness of strangers, I would have lost it.

On my first flight, I was flustered as I attempted to cart all my shit onto the plane. I have an injured elbow (football casualty) that made carrying my stuff even more challenging. When I found an aisle seat next to an elderly couple, I hefted my overstuffed carryon bag into the overhead bin. Because of the breast pump and work takeaways that I had crammed in there, it didn’t push all the way in. I’m short and I couldn’t quite reach high enough to shove it in, and my dang elbow throbbed. For what felt like an eternity but was probably about a minute, I struggled mightily to get it in while people huffed and puffed behind me because I was holding up the line (I’m usually the jerk huffing and puffing in the line). I looked around desperately and started mumbling about needing to take something out of there to make it fit when a kind guy hopped out of his seat and helped me. He said, “We can make this work. No need to pull it down and take something out of it.” He got it in pretty quickly and patted my shoulder as he walked away. Kindness. I collapsed into my seat and mumbled apologies to the people around me. In an effort to be nice, I think, the elderly woman next to me struck up a conversation, and we discovered we had the same connecting flight to Cleveland. She was going to visit her son, and I gave her some advice about Cleveland. Then we both put in our headphones and ignored each other the rest of the flight. As we landed, another guy nearby hopped up and pulled my bag down for me before I could even try to. He handed it to me and winked. Kindness. 

Before my connecting flight, I reorganized my carryon so that it would fit in the overhead bin the next time. I wasn’t going through that disaster again. I was in a later boarding group (Southwest) and assumed that I would have to sit wayyyy in the back, but the elderly couple from the first flight saved me a seat in the SECOND row! When the woman waved at me and motioned to the aisle seat, my eyes lit up. I had mentioned to her that I desperately wanted to get home to my husband and girls, and she said she figured she would save me 20 minutes or so by saving me the seat. I was so grateful. Kindness. This time, I got my bag into the bin quickly, but one of the wheels caught on another passenger’s backpack and it dangled out of the bin, coming close to hitting an aisle passenger in the face. Again some nearby jumped up to help me. He got it all squared away in a moment. Kindness. I shook my head at the elderly lady and told her I wasn’t usually this much of a disaster. “Really, I swear I’m relatively strong and capable,” I told her. “But I just can’t seem to pull it together.” After the plane took off and it was dark, I cried briefly and quietly. I have never, ever cried on an airplane; I loathe crying in front of people.  

As I wheeled my baggage out of the airport, I was grateful for the kindness of strangers during a time I needed it most. They didn’t even know about my internal struggles, but still, they helped me. All those small acts of kindness add up and sometimes something so small can make a significant difference. 

I struggled this past month to keep my head above water. When I struggle, I retreat. I am moody and grumpy and not very fun to be around. This past week, I was feeling sorry for myself as I entered Dollar General to pick up a few items. The mother in front of me at the checkout counter was attempting to corral her special needs teenage son. He was rocking and hitting himself. He was throwing candy around. He was yelling incoherently. This mother handled all of this with grace and kindness. She was gentle and sweet to her son, despite how difficult the situation was. She kept turning to me and apologizing. I reassured her that she had nothing to apologize for. The cashiers knew this woman and her son, and they handled the situation with kindness and ease. Still, the woman kept apologizing to all of us. At one point, when he wouldn’t put on his coat and began trying to hit her, she put her face in her hands and said, “I’m so sorry. It’s just been such a rough morning.” Her hands were shaking; in that moment, I wanted to grab her hands and hold them and tell her it was OK. But I didn’t. They got him into his coat, and they headed out the door ahead of me.

As I was pulling out of my parking spot, I saw her getting him settled in the car. She closed his door and her shoulders collapsed. I was about to pull away when something stopped me. I paused. Then I rolled down my window and said, “Hey!” She turned to me. “You’re a good mom,” I said. “You really are.” Her face lit up. She smiled and pressed her hands to her heart and said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I couldn’t stop thinking of her the rest of that afternoon. Her struggle is very different and, quite frankly, much harder than mine. I do not comprehend nor understand her daily battles. I saw her external struggle just as people saw mine on the plane. Though I cannot know, understand, or comprehend her internal battles, it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to in order to offer her kindness.

Be kind. We hear it all the time. But let’s actually do it.

Photos: Ember Eve in motion; Ivy Quinn becoming a person