I wasn’t especially good at basketball, but I loved it. One day while playing, I broke my ankle. I needed corrective surgery and would be on crutches for months while I recovered. Getting to and from work, and running errands, was suddenly a huge struggle. I could order groceries online, but there were still a few things I’d have to manage myself.
Back then, I lived in a unit overlooking a park. Every day after school, a large group of teenagers from a few different schools would sit under the tree nearest our block of units. They were a bit troublesome sometimes. Usually, they would just smoke cigarettes and the occasional doobie. But other times they’d spray paint tags on our fence or yell smartarse comments at people walking through the park. To get to the corner store for milk, I had to walk past them, and I was a bit nervous the first time I had to do it on crutches.
That first time I hobbled past, one of them called something out to me which I didn’t quite catch. I assumed he was mocking me, so I kept limping on. But then he and a few others ran up to me. They offered to carry my bag to my door and I gratefully – if a little hesitantly – accepted.
For the next few months, those teenagers were such a great help to me. Anytime I crutch-walked past them they would ask how I was and if I needed a hand with anything. They took my bins out for me and if they saw me at the corner store, they would let me cut in line ahead of them, so I didn’t have to stand around waiting as long.
The last time I saw the teenagers was in the final weeks of school – they were seniors and about to graduate. At the end of my time on crutches I thanked them personally and wrote to their schools to say they deserved recognition (whether they received it or not, I don’t know).
A lot of people were kind to me during that injury experience – and a few weren’t kind at all! – but by far the most helpful were those teens. I’d been bullied a lot in high school and the experience helped me resolve a lot of the residual wariness I had about groups of teenagers. It also showed me that we can’t define strangers from the small glimpses we see of them, even if we see them every day. Those teens were more than their stereotype – and I’m grateful for it.
What is the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for you?
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