I put this in Life, but I really wanted to put it in here too, just in case people in here might not go in Life. It's not a poem, but it is a personal written work seeing as how I put a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to write this all out. It's a true story too....
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I've hated being called a kid/kiddo since I was a child. Ask anyone who knows me. It's true. It makes my skin crawl, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I scowl in hatred and cringe in pain. It sucks. That in mind, here's my story...and please read this to the end. It is so worth it....
My sister graduated this weekend from the University of Toledo. Yay. I took some time off of work, including making up time on days I had to work, just so I could go up and see her. I drive separate, we get up there, she graduates, blah blah blah. Now today ( Sunday ), my stepbrother was to graduate from the University of Akron, across the state from Toledo, and my family of course wanted to go see him. Well, I didn't really feel like spending all that much time with the family ( for various stupid reasons...they basically spend their whole time putting me down ), so I decided to just leave like 1/2 hour earlier than they did and just drive the 4 hours to come back home and chill by myself.
Well, that started out extremely well. It was raining the whole time, and my windshield wipers were on high the whole time. I hit Ashland ( which is like an 2 hours from Toledo ) and it got really really bad. Pouring down rain, I couldn't see two feet in front of my car. My windshield wipers stop working ( I just got the car a month and 1/2 ago ). Sheets of rain pour over my car as I slow to a stop and pull over to the side of the road. I use my cell to call my mom, who should only be like 1/2 hour behind me almost on the same road as I am. She tells me to wait till it stops raining and there's nothing she can do. I get pissed, hang up, my windshield wipers turn back on, so I just go. About 15 minutes later, it starts pouring down rain again, so not wanting to have my windshield wipers go out on me again, I pull into a Wendy's on the side of the road and just wait. I called my mom and told her what I was gonna do and she said that was fine. I got outta my car to go and get something to eat, when I noticed something with my car. My tire was flat. Completely flat on it's rim. I call my mom again and when I get ahold of her ( keep in mind she should only be like 1/2 hour-15 minutes behind me ), she tells me there's nothing she can do, and for me to get a fix-a-flat spray can thing from a gas station and just keep going. I have no money. I hang up. She never calls back. I go into Wendy's and sit, my appetite completely lost. I cry hard yet silently in the restaurant, not knowing what to do. People around me sit, stare, whisper, do everything but ask me what's wrong. I'm desperate. I start to pray. I don't even know who I was praying to, but I just prayed that someone would come and help me somehow. I was miles from home, I knew no one. I finally remembered a small emergency kit I had thankfully put in the trunk of my car when I first got it. I dried my tears, gathered my purse and went outside to see if the fix-a-flat thing was in the kit. It was. I knelt down to the tire ( it had slowed raining ) and started to put it inside. I heard a voice and looked up. It was an older man, probably late 60s. He asked me if I needed any help. I looked up at him, tears in my eyes, and just broke down, telling him my whole story. The first can of tire stuff barely helped at all, so the man offered to go to a gas station nearby and pick me up some more. I told him I had no money and he said don't worry. He left me and went to go. I didn't even know his name and he didn't know mine, and he was doing this for me. When he came back, he brought two cans with him and he helped me put one of them in my tire. When it finally looked inflated, we got up off the ground and I gave him a really big hug. I didn't even know the man, but I gave him a hard squeeze regardless. I kept thanking him and thanking him over and over again, and he kept shaking his head, telling me not to worry about it. He slipped me a $10 and smiled. He told me to get something to eat and just keep checking my tire every once in a while along the way home. And before he went into Wendy's to help himself to some food, he said one last thing:
"Good luck kid."
I paused. And smiled. I gave him a quick hug, thanking him again, got in my car, and drove away. We never knew each other's name, we knew nothing about each other, but he was willing to help me when I was stuck with no one else. He was what I prayed for, a true angel. I seriously believe that whoever I prayed to earlier sent him just to help me one time, knowing I'd never see him again. And help so small has made such a difference. I will never forget this man, and I know he will never ever read this, but thank you so much from the bottom of my heart.
~Jamie
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I've hated being called a kid/kiddo since I was a child. Ask anyone who knows me. It's true. It makes my skin crawl, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I scowl in hatred and cringe in pain. It sucks. That in mind, here's my story...and please read this to the end. It is so worth it....
My sister graduated this weekend from the University of Toledo. Yay. I took some time off of work, including making up time on days I had to work, just so I could go up and see her. I drive separate, we get up there, she graduates, blah blah blah. Now today ( Sunday ), my stepbrother was to graduate from the University of Akron, across the state from Toledo, and my family of course wanted to go see him. Well, I didn't really feel like spending all that much time with the family ( for various stupid reasons...they basically spend their whole time putting me down ), so I decided to just leave like 1/2 hour earlier than they did and just drive the 4 hours to come back home and chill by myself.
Well, that started out extremely well. It was raining the whole time, and my windshield wipers were on high the whole time. I hit Ashland ( which is like an 2 hours from Toledo ) and it got really really bad. Pouring down rain, I couldn't see two feet in front of my car. My windshield wipers stop working ( I just got the car a month and 1/2 ago ). Sheets of rain pour over my car as I slow to a stop and pull over to the side of the road. I use my cell to call my mom, who should only be like 1/2 hour behind me almost on the same road as I am. She tells me to wait till it stops raining and there's nothing she can do. I get pissed, hang up, my windshield wipers turn back on, so I just go. About 15 minutes later, it starts pouring down rain again, so not wanting to have my windshield wipers go out on me again, I pull into a Wendy's on the side of the road and just wait. I called my mom and told her what I was gonna do and she said that was fine. I got outta my car to go and get something to eat, when I noticed something with my car. My tire was flat. Completely flat on it's rim. I call my mom again and when I get ahold of her ( keep in mind she should only be like 1/2 hour-15 minutes behind me ), she tells me there's nothing she can do, and for me to get a fix-a-flat spray can thing from a gas station and just keep going. I have no money. I hang up. She never calls back. I go into Wendy's and sit, my appetite completely lost. I cry hard yet silently in the restaurant, not knowing what to do. People around me sit, stare, whisper, do everything but ask me what's wrong. I'm desperate. I start to pray. I don't even know who I was praying to, but I just prayed that someone would come and help me somehow. I was miles from home, I knew no one. I finally remembered a small emergency kit I had thankfully put in the trunk of my car when I first got it. I dried my tears, gathered my purse and went outside to see if the fix-a-flat thing was in the kit. It was. I knelt down to the tire ( it had slowed raining ) and started to put it inside. I heard a voice and looked up. It was an older man, probably late 60s. He asked me if I needed any help. I looked up at him, tears in my eyes, and just broke down, telling him my whole story. The first can of tire stuff barely helped at all, so the man offered to go to a gas station nearby and pick me up some more. I told him I had no money and he said don't worry. He left me and went to go. I didn't even know his name and he didn't know mine, and he was doing this for me. When he came back, he brought two cans with him and he helped me put one of them in my tire. When it finally looked inflated, we got up off the ground and I gave him a really big hug. I didn't even know the man, but I gave him a hard squeeze regardless. I kept thanking him and thanking him over and over again, and he kept shaking his head, telling me not to worry about it. He slipped me a $10 and smiled. He told me to get something to eat and just keep checking my tire every once in a while along the way home. And before he went into Wendy's to help himself to some food, he said one last thing:
"Good luck kid."
I paused. And smiled. I gave him a quick hug, thanking him again, got in my car, and drove away. We never knew each other's name, we knew nothing about each other, but he was willing to help me when I was stuck with no one else. He was what I prayed for, a true angel. I seriously believe that whoever I prayed to earlier sent him just to help me one time, knowing I'd never see him again. And help so small has made such a difference. I will never forget this man, and I know he will never ever read this, but thank you so much from the bottom of my heart.
~Jamie
I love reading stuff like this, it makes the world a brighter place for me to know theres people out there like that 