Even though my black coffee had gone lukewarm, I sipped it distractedly, drowning in bills and work stress. My four-year-old son, Nolan, tugged my sleeve.
“Milkshake?” he asked sweetly.
Something about that small request felt like a lifeline. I smiled and said yes.
We drove to O’Malley’s Diner, a dusty old place with cracked booths but the best milkshakes in town. Nolan ordered his usual—extra cherry, no whip—and beamed with excitement. While we waited, I noticed a little boy sitting alone across the room, his mother gone to the restroom.
Before I could react, Nolan slid from our booth and joined him, offering his milkshake without hesitation. No words, no introductions—just pure kindness.
The mother returned, hesitated, then smiled gratefully. Her husband was in the hospital, she whispered. It had been a hard time.
Driving home, Nolan stared out the window, lost in dreams, while I sat stunned. In one small act, he reminded me: life isn’t about having much—it’s about noticing others and offering what you have.
Now, every Friday, we get milkshakes—always two straws. Just in case someone else needs one.
Maybe today, someone is still waiting for a small kindness. Maybe it’s you.
