I grew up very poor, so dinner was often just toast with a little cheese. At 12, I went to a friend’s fancy house for a group project. Her mom had made a nice meal with lots of dishes, and I was really excited and hungry.
As we ate, everyone looked at me strangely. When I tried to cut my meat, her mom got very upset. She looked at me and yelled, ‘Are you crazy? You’ll hurt yourself! That’s not how you cut meat!’ She came over and showed me the right way to do it. I felt embarrassed and apologized, saying I hadn’t eaten meat in a while.
Later that day, when I got home, I found a note in my pocket that said, ‘Our doors are open for you. You can come over for dinner anytime.’ For a whole year, I went to their house once a week to enjoy their meals. I will always be grateful to my friend’s family. As we grew up, we drifted apart, but I will never forget their kindness.
