I had an oncologist appointment today. It didn’t last long. All that was scheduled was some bloodwork and a shot to help increase the production of my red blood cells.

The whole visit only lasted about thirty minutes.

As I was leaving the office, I found myself walking behind two elderly women. It looked to be a mother and daughter. The mother was using a cane and appeared to be having just as much trouble walking as I was.

I wasn’t in a hurry, so I stayed behind them as we made our way to the elevator. The three of us rode down to the first floor and then slowly walked down the corridor past the ER entrance and toward the parking deck payment kiosk.

The daughter scanned her parking ticket and tried to pay the $4 fee with four one-dollar bills.

The machine refused to take her money.

She tried several times, but the kiosk never gave her any option other than paying with a card.

By then, several more people had crowded into the small payment area. I could tell the daughter was becoming frustrated and embarrassed. She looked over at me and motioned for me to go ahead and pay for mine first.

After I paid for my parking, I turned to her and asked if she would hand me her ticket.

I scanned it and paid for their parking.

At first, both the mother and daughter looked confused and uncertain about what I was doing. But when I handed her the receipt, they realized what had happened. The expressions on their faces immediately changed to relief and gratitude. I think they were genuinely worried about how they were going to get out of the parking deck.

Truthfully, I was just going to quietly pay for it and leave without saying another word. But the daughter insisted on paying me back the four dollars.

And honestly, THIS is the person I usually am.

This is how I was raised.

I don’t care what color you are, what political party you belong to, whether you’re young or old, rich or poor — if I see someone struggling and I’m able to help, I’ll do what I can.

I follow a blogger on this platform whose husband and she are both living on Social Security. Between insurance costs and medications, they barely have enough left over for groceries. Recently, she asked if anyone could help.

I don’t get paid until later this week, but as soon as I do, I plan on sending them a little something.

Not because I have plenty.

Not because I’m trying to impress anyone.

But because I know what it feels like to need help.

I enjoy helping people. And to be honest, I especially love helping when people don’t even know where the help came from.

Sometimes the world feels angry, divided, and selfish.

But small acts of kindness still matter.

Maybe now more than ever.