I didn’t know then that giving him those bags of food, including the milk I’d planned to take home, would lead him to a life-changing decision.
The next morning, after a milk shortage at home had me back at the store, I nearly walked past the man in a crisp military uniform sitting on the store steps. But then I saw his eyes and froze—it was Morgan.
He gestured to the bench, asking if I’d sit with him. “I was a Master Sergeant, 26 years of service. Lost friends, saw young men who never came home.” His fingers traced the uniform’s sleeve. “Coming home was harder than leaving. My wife passed from cancer while I was overseas, and a year later, I lost my daughter in a tragic accident. One day, the silence at home got so loud that I just… walked away from it all.”
His voice wavered. “But yesterday, your kindness reminded me what it’s like to be seen as a person. I took a chance—I walked into the VA office. They’ve been looking for me for months, and they want me to mentor soldiers just coming home, to help them adjust before the darkness sets in.”
With a warm smile, he pulled two gallons of milk from his bag. “For your kids. Couldn’t have them missing breakfast because of me,” he chuckled.
As we hugged goodbye, he pressed a folded note into my hand, his voice gentle. “Keep teaching kindness, Greta. It saves lives. I’m living proof of that.”
Our paths crossed that day for a reason—a small act of kindness rekindled hope, reminding both of us that everyone deserves compassion and a chance to find their way back home.
