11:48 PM

I walk towards the beat up car with Kansas plates. The mom I saw earlier glances up, as though alarmed. Eyes wide. Stare glued on my every movement. She repeatedly slaps her hand downward in the space directly behind her. I assume she's probably telling the children to stay hidden. I definitely don't mean to scare her. I imagine she's just being protective like any good mother would be, but now the awkwardness level on Project TOTO has been raised significantly.

I stop in an attempt to reduce the anxiety levels for both myself and the Forgotten Family. Frozen in place, I flip through thought-options in my brain for possible solutions to reduce the stranger danger red flags I'm triggering. I point to the paper bag, then point to the woman. This is for you, my mouth speaks without sound.

Forgotten Mom cautiously rolls down the window. "Did you say something?"

"This is for you." I smile and hold up the bag. "It's a welcome to Washington State gift. You seem to be a long way from home."

The woman turns to the back seat and appears to gesture a few reminders to the children who are hidden from view. Then with careful and slow movements, Forgotten Mom opens the driver's side door. She slips out of the car, flips the lock and gently pushes the door shut.

We stare at each other for what seems like minutes, although it's probably just a few seconds. Part of me wants to drop the bag and take off running for the laundromat. But there is a larger part of me that wants Forgotten Mom and her children to know they are remembered. Visible. Deserving of kindness. That's why I hold my ground and don't give in to my fears of uneasiness.

"It's almost the New Year," I explain. "There's noisemakers in here so you and your children can celebrate." Two little heads pop up from behind the driver's seat at the mention of noisemakers.

I continue forward with small baby steps, holding the bag out in front of me. As I get closer, I see pools of tears collecting in Forgotten Mom's eyes. When I'm close enough for her to reach out and grab the bag, the pools overflow down the sides of her cheeks.

"Noisemakers?" Forgotten Mom's bottom lip trembles. "How could you have heard that silent prayer?"

I shrug my shoulders, desperately fighting back my own river of tears. "Maybe I'm your fairy godmother?"

Forgotten Mom laughs through a sob as she reaches for the grocery bag. Despite appearing anxious, she places the bag on the hood of the car and holds her arms out to her sides—a silent offering for an appreciative hug. I nod as we push through our apprehensions for a gentle embrace. "You are pure Serendipity," she whispers. "Pure Serendipity."

Our hug causes the kitten to let out a small meow as it squirms in the sweatshirt hood resting on my chest. The traveler from the Midwest jumps back slightly in surprise as I pull the kitten out for a proper introduction. Holding the grimy ball of fur up to my cheek I disclose, "A little stray I found earlier this evening."

Forgotten Mom wipes the last remaining tears from her eyes. "So you're the guardian angel for the homeless tonight?"

I reach out and put my hand on Forgotten Mom's arm. "You belong somewhere. You belong to them." I nod towards the children in the car now filled with excitement and giggles. "Home is where your happiness is." Nuzzling the top of the kitten's head with my nose I add, "Maybe I'll find my uniquely happy home this year, too."

Forgotten Mom looks back lovingly at her children in a car that's both transportation and shelter. "I suppose our home is uniquely happy."

"If there's one thing I'm starting to discover," I add, "happiness doesn't always show up in the ways you expect it to. But when you find the right perspective, it's always there to be found."

Forgotten Mom nods. "I needed to hear that."

I tilt my head to the side and smile. "I think I needed to hear that, too."

I back away slowly towards the laundromat waving one of the kitten's paws. "Happy New Year. I hope those noisemakers don't end up driving you crazy."

Forgotten Mom holds the bag of groceries in her arms and grins warmly. "I'm sure they'll probably drive me crazy. But like you said, with the right perspective, happiness can even be found in the crazy. You're a blessing. Thank you."

For one second, I changed the world—and in exchange for that one second of kindness, the world has changed me forever.

Forgotten Mom has no idea our interaction gave me far more than a grocery bag filled with nacho fixings and holiday cheer. She has no idea our meeting somehow put me on a road leading towards home. Not a dwelling with four walls and a roof, but a refuge of belonging and purpose. I'm happiest when I create happiness in the world.

As I turn towards Ruffle-Shuffle, I notice Cooper standing by the window next to an elderly man hooked up to an oxygen tank. Both are failing miserably in their attempt to discretely observe what's unfolding in the parking lot outside. Instead of embarrassment, their spectating makes me feel proud of the person I'm deliberately becoming.

I click my heels together and grin. "Perspective Genie—I wish to see happiness."

*********NACHO BREAK********* 

Helping others is such an amazing feeling. Please list your favorite charities or volunteer opportunities in the comments below. Let's give each other ideas as to how we can become more connected to our world (and as a result, helping our world become more connected). 

PLEASE VOTE! It will only take a second, but it will change my world forever! Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com