I saw Miss Inez struggling down the sidewalk with her walker and two heavy bags—one filled with canned food and bread, the other with something warm wrapped in a towel. She looked tired but determined. When I crossed the street to help, she smiled and said, “I’m fine. Just bringing dinner to the Mitchell boy. His mom’s in the hospital.” She had taped a note to the container: “You are important.”
We walked together to the boy’s house. He looked worn out, maybe twelve or thirteen, and hadn’t had a visitor in days.
She used a rollator to walk six blocks in order to bring some soup to her neighbor.
Miss Inez handed him the food gently. “Evening, baby,” she said. “You must eat. And remember—someone’s thinking of you.”
He clutched the bag and whispered, “It’s been three days since anyone knocked.”
Later that week, his mother came home. Neighbors began dropping off food, books, cards. But what stayed? That note—You are important—now taped to their fridge.
Months later, when Miss Inez needed help after a fall, the boy showed up every morning, smiling, carrying her groceries.
Sometimes, all it takes is a kind word, a warm meal, and a reminder: you’re not alone. You matter.
