I noticed Miss Inez slowly walking down the street around five o’clock, using her rollator. Two heavy bags hung from the handles—one with groceries, the other carrying something warm wrapped in a towel.
Though she looked tired, she moved with quiet determination. I’d seen her before—lived a few houses down, always polite, always present.
When I offered help, she smiled and said, “I’m fine. Just bringing something hot to the Mitchell boy. His mother’s sick, and he’s been alone for three days.”
Inside the towel was food, and on top, a handwritten note: “You are important.”
I walked with her the rest of the way. At the Mitchell house, a tired young boy opened the door. She gently gave him the bag and reminded him: “You’re on someone’s mind.”
As we walked back, she said, “People forget how much little things matter.”
That small act sparked a wave—neighbors began helping. And later, when Miss Inez needed care after a fall, the same boy came each day to help her—now smiling, now giving.
What did it take?
Just six blocks, a walker, a warm meal, and a kind word: You are not alone. You are important.
