Tonight was supposed to be just a simple shopping trip in Fort Wayne, just me, Grandma, and the two little ones. I had imagined it would be routine: a few errands, maybe a small treat for the girls, and the quiet satisfaction of checking things off my list. But what unfolded on that escalator became a small but unforgettable lesson in kindness, courage, and the simple humanity of strangers.
I was juggling more than I realized. Bags in my arms, the girls’ little hands in mine, navigating the bustling store, it all felt like a delicate balancing act. When we reached the escalator, I focused on guiding the children safely down, stepping on without thinking about anything else. That’s when I noticed Grandma. Her hands gripped the railing tightly, her eyes wide with fear. I hadn’t realized how afraid she was of the moving stairs. She tried again and again, hesitating, trying to find her footing. Each attempt seemed heavier with hesitation and frustration, and my heart sank watching her struggle.
People brushed past her, some impatiently, some unaware, others simply urging her to step aside. I felt a pang of guilt and helplessness, I wanted to be there for her, but my hands were already full. And then, he appeared. A man I had never seen before, who stopped in the middle of the busy escalator. He didn’t look at Grandma with annoyance or impatience. He didn’t glance at me awkwardly as I struggled to manage the kids and the bags. Instead, he reached out, took her hand, and guided her carefully down the escalator, step by step, until she safely reached the bottom.
There was something extraordinary in that moment, a quiet bravery, a simple humanity that doesn’t always get noticed. Grandma relaxed into his support, the tension in her shoulders melting away, and I felt tears prick my eyes. It was more than just helping someone on an escalator. It was a reminder that the world still holds people who move toward fear and vulnerability with courage and compassion, rather than away from it.
When we stepped off, Grandma gave him a grateful smile, and I whispered a heartfelt “thank you” that felt too small for the enormity of the gesture. He nodded and moved on, disappearing into the crowd as if he had simply done what anyone should. But I couldn’t let the moment pass without holding it close, a quiet testament to the goodness that exists, often unnoticed, around us.
That night, as we loaded the car with our groceries and the girls chattered excitedly about small adventures of the day, I kept thinking about that man and the courage it took to step in. I kept thinking about Grandma, about how fear can sneak up in ordinary moments, and how sometimes, all it takes is a stranger’s hand to make the world feel a little safer, a little brighter. And in that thought, I found a simple, profound truth: kindness matters. Always.
Credit: Leah Kerr
