You, a blurry guy-shaped person (I didn't have my glasses on), handed me a yellow rose as I walked my dog at 5:30 on a Thursday morning. You couldn't have known that I had just awoken from a heartbreaking dream in which my grandmother died in my arms. I had just visited her the previous weekend as she and my grandfather struggled to adjust to health problems and an imminent move to assisted living. I had been carrying the dual heavy weights of love and pain in my heart. I turned the corner after thanking you (and stepping on my little dog's poor toesies—I really need to wear my glasses when I walk) and broke into tears at your simple, sweet gesture. Thank you for your kindness. The world is brighter for having you in it.


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