The city bus rattled through afternoon traffic as I rested a hand on my belly, feeling my baby’s gentle kicks. Seven months pregnant, I was tired but hopeful.
When an older woman boarded and searched for a seat, I stood and offered mine. She accepted with a soft smile. I thought it was a small kindness, nothing more. But before she stepped off at her stop, she leaned in, slipped something into my coat pocket, and whispered, “Take care of yourself, dear.”
Confused, I reached into my pocket moments later and pulled out an old locket. Inside was a faded photo of a young mother and baby, and a note: “Thank you. Someone once gave up their seat for me, too.” Tears filled my eyes as I realized kindness travels quietly from one generation to the next in this moment.
