Little Acts of Kindness, Each Special in Their Way

To my sister Susan,

You will not be expecting this. It will take you by surprise, I am sure. As I sat here nursing my broken wrist and my two broken ribs, trying to tap out sensible words on my keyboard, I felt a sudden urge to write to you.

Christmas is coming; as you know, it has never been a good time for me. There has always been some controversy or something like this to get in the way of the Christmas spirit.

I tend to get very melancholy at this time of year. So here goes.

I could call you, but it would not be the same. Words on the phone disappear the moment they are spoken, and I wanted you to have something to look back on in the years to come.

I was thinking last night that I had never acknowledged to you several events that occurred in our past that, to be honest, greatly impacted my life.

I did not realize it then, but as we both get older, these things seem to take on particular importance. Things that need to be said before we run out of time.

Do you remember when we used to catch the train to school together?

We would walk down to the station. You would go in one direction, and I would go in the other. You were around ten, I guess, because I was only eight. At that time, I was petrified I would need to go to the toilet before I got to school, which, for some reason, horrified me.

I would bombard you with endless questions until one of the other trains came.

“Will I need to go to the toilet?”

“Are you sure I won’t need to go to the toilet?”

Of course, you had no way of knowing, but your words always comforted me, and I don’t think I ever needed to go to the toilet, so it must have worked.

Then there was the time you were ‘talked into’ going fishing off the rocks in the ocean with me. I don’t think it was your idea of fun, but you did it in response to our father’s badgering.

We were dropped off and were going to be picked up about four hours later. I had barely cast my line in the water when I missed my footing, fell onto the rocks, and hit my head, knocking me unconscious.

We spent the four hours sitting on the rocks, me with my head in your lap while you stroked my head.

When our father came and picked us up, he went for you big time.

“Why hadn’t you done something?"

"What were you thinking?”

There were no mobile phones then, and it was anyone's guess what you were meant to do apart from taking care of me.

You took it on the chin, and all because of me.

As the years went by, you were still there for me. I remember when I was doing my Honors thesis. There were no computers then, like there are now. It all had to be done manually. I was not good at typing and had left my run a bit late. Once again, you came to my rescue.

You picked me up on Friday night and took me to your place. You made dinner, which I specifically remember because you cooked a streak medium rare and said it was good brain food, and I need to get some nutrition for the weekend ahead.

You borrowed a typewriter and typed my thesis for the whole weekend. We didn’t sleep on Sunday night because the deadline was 9 a.m. on Monday. Thanks to you, we got it done, and you even drove me to Uni to drop it off before you went to work.

Finally, I remember you finding out that no one was giving me a twenty-first birthday. You did it all: cooked, served it, and had it at your place. There were not many people there, maybe ten, but I still remember your kindness today, so it must have been an event to remember.

It was probably was helped by the fact that it was the first time our little sister got drunk and started abusing our father. Maybe it was poetic justice for the hard time he gave you over the fishing incident. Only to be topped off by her throwing up in the back of his car.

These may seem trivial, but they have stayed with me all my life. You could have taken a different path or responded in different ways. There was no compulsion to do any of these things. Each was special in its way.

I have never properly acknowledged your support and your love. Now I have done that. Thank you for these and everything you have done.

Your brother, Calvin.