“Feeling summer slipping through my fingers, I packed up my three little kids and drove two hours away to a remote beach I’d always wanted to visit. Upping the ante, I’d packed a fancy picnic lunch with expensive sausage and good cheese. We arrived to find the beach fogged in and freezing cold (you win again, microclimates!). We spread out our blanket anyway and played in the sand. On my second cut into the fancy sausage, the knife sliced right through my finger and I immediately knew it was bad when I saw the knife stop in the middle of my fingernail. I grabbed a baby onesie to wrap around my finger, but blood was already gushing down my hand and I knew I’d need stitches for this one.
There was hardly anyone on the beach that day, but I ran over to someone who looked like she could be a mom and asked her to help me get all my gear up the hill to the parking lot so I could drive to a hospital. She told me the nearest hospital was an hour further north away from home, then noticed the blood dripping down my arm now and said she’d get help. A group of people began to wander over since I was getting a little frantic and my kids began to cry. A family with young adult children walked over and said, “Honey, you can’t drive. What if you pass out?” The logistics of calling an ambulance and leaving my car and getting all my kids to a hospital sounded so unappealing when the man offered, “You know, we are supposed to head to the airport in a few hours, but what if we go now and drive you back to a hospital near your home?”
This profoundly kind family packed up my frazzled children, all our beach gear, and split up between my car and theirs to drive us TWO HOURS back to our home. They entertained my kids in the car and calmed my nerves, dropping us off right at the door to the emergency room. Five stitches later, we were all just fine but I vowed to return that kindness to someone else someday.”
