The Most Common Thing In The World

We walked into Patriot Stadium on Wednesday afternoon, Tim and me, Charlie and Ann. It was one of those white-hot summer days. The kind that blisters uncovered heads and causes a person to squint to see two feet away.

We planned a quick visit, lunch then a bit of Patriot’s training camp practice before heading off to Boston’s Logan International, where Tim and I were due to fly home after a month away.

We weren’t the only ones who took a notion to stop by and watch Tom Brady and Tim Tebow toss around the pigskin. Everyone and their Yankee neighbor had turned out. Being summer and all, they brought their children, too.

As Ann led the way, we stepped around a group of three elementary-age boys headed for the stadium. They looked to be about eight or nine years old. Glancing their way, I heard the smallest of the three, a freckled-faced, egg-white-skinned boy declare: “I should have worn a hat. I can’t see nothing.” His eyes were all scrunched up tight. He was trying his best to filter the blinding sunlight.

It didn’t take but a second before the taller of the three boys whipped off his cap and placed it on his friend’s head.

“You can wear my hat,” he said. His hair was dark as midnight. His skin a soft brown. His black eyes, wide-open. He did not need to squint in the sunlight. He absorbed the white-hotness with ease.

“Gee thanks!” said Freckles.

“Just don’t lose it,” his friend admonished.

“I won’t,” Freckles said, pulling down the cap’s bill.

Turning to Ann, I asked, “Did you hear those boys?”

She had not, so I told her about the exchange.

Kindness can be such a common thing, attempts to ease the suffering of others whenever we are able. Be it a ball cap, or a ride to town, sharing a dollop of sunscreen, or a bottle of water.

Other times, it can seem like the most uncommon thing in the world.

What makes the difference?

We do.

Are we generous in our kindness?

Or is it something we hoard for another day, or another person?