On a hard day...

I've had a hard day today. A residual feeling of sadness has bled over from yesterday and I feel exhausted in nearly every capacity.

I suppose it's days like today that made me want to document the acts of kindness around me. I know that often I can get so caught up in the larger idea of every day. Work, commitments, household obligations. In focusing so intensely on the greater scale of things, I tend to lose sight of so many wonderful things that receive no recognition.

I put little effort into my appearance today. I threw on jeans and a comfortable tee shirt, slapped a small amount of makeup onto my face, pulled a brush through my hair, and stepped into my favorite black Converse shoes. Definitely not professional dress, but thankfully I work in a casual environment where this is not entirely unheard of.

In feeling so wretched, I have really noticed the kindness of others today. Perhaps their efforts have been heightened as it is clear that I'm upset. Or perhaps it is in feeling so low that the smallest act of kindness seems to be paramount.

Acts of kindness shown to me today include moments that sparked laughter, a comfortable lunch with friends, a simple "I hope your day gets better" from a pure stranger who read it across my face, and tickets for a Bon Iver show tonight.

Giving support to someone who is having a hard day--a very special act of kindness.

Friendly Acquaintances

"Well hey, stranger."
At this, I know my favorite postman is here. And I am excited to say hi.
I encounter mail services, UPS and FedEx every day, and I have my favorite carriers from each domain.

The man from mail services may be the friendliest person I encounter all day. Whenever he enters the office he asks me how I am, and when I reciprocate, he responds, "Oh, doing well." My mood always lifts when I see him simply because he is so cheerful and friendly.

My favorite UPS carrier is equally awesome and together we share a countdown to Friday each week.
"See you later, bye!" he says without fail as he rounds the corner out of the office.

I don't actually know any of their names, but I always smile when I see them. Carrying heavy mail, making long rounds, and always friendly.

Being friendly toward an acquaintance, even for a few seconds. An awesome act of kindness.

Stopping for a Chat

This post is homage to my friend Brad and people who are like him. I use the word "friend" loosely because although we do not see each other outside the halls of our workplace, he is someone that anyone would like to call friend. Including me.

Brad is special because he is so nice for no reason at all.

Today, he stopped by my desk to give me some documents I requested. We had not talked for a while, and though we were both somewhat busy, took the time to have a conversation.

"What areas of Tempe should I avoid?" he asked.
"Guadalupe," I said. "Definitely."

Our short conversation was repeatedly interrupted by the incessant ringing of my phone, and with every call, he waited patiently.

Brad is leaving soon, moving to a place that I know well, that is no longer mine. I am envious of that place, that they are getting him. Someone who is so nice, for no reason.

Stopping by for a chat. An awesome, sometimes the best, act of kindness.

The Candy Dish

As I threw my bag of daily necessities onto my desk this morning, beginning a new work week, I heard a familiar rustle from my coworker's office. She had purchased bags of candy over the weekend and was replenishing the dish that sits on the corner of her desk.

She pays for the candy with her own money, and purposefully buys items she knows certain people enjoy. She likes Riesen, but I know she keeps it stocked in the dish for the times when Rolando is looking for chocolate.

The candy dish, though small and inconspicuous, creates a cheerful and inviting atmosphere for anyone entering her office. With its mystical powers, candy can somehow make even the crappiest circumstances better by simply being offered and tasting really nice.

"Have a piece of candy."  A simple, awesome act of kindness.