lonely waffles

Macy grew up with one rule and one rule only: Never, and that means never, ever, talk to a stranger when you are alone. Especially a man. And even more especially, an old one. Her mom told her she’d be inviting trouble into her life and she’d understand when she was older.

But she didn’t understand and she was sick of being told what to do, of never being able to make a choice for herself. The only thing she ever got to choose was what to eat off the menu at the diner, while she waited in that yuck of a sticky booth for her mom to get off shift.

She promised—even pinky promised—her mom that she absolutely, under no circumstances whatsoever, would talk to any strangers in that diner. And really, there were no strangers to even talk to, everyone that showed up was a regular of some sort. Daily, weekly, monthly, all the faces were the same.

Until the day she realized that promise she made, maybe it was meant to be broken. Maybe it was not meant to be kept, like everything else in life. At a certain point, it floats away, no longer yours to hold onto.

As she sat in that gummed up booth at that same old stinky diner, eating her strikingly delicious waffles, drowned in syrup, she took a big bite, looked up and noticed him. The man who would make her a promise breaker.

He was new here, but clearly, not new to, like, this world. No, from his head to his toes, he had seen some things and the sun had rotated around this globe one too many times for his old bones.

He had ordered waffles too—but he couldn’t get a bite in his mouth. She tried to ignore it, like everyone else did, to focus on her own plate, stay out of other people’s business, let him figure it out on his own.

But she looked up and saw her mom step out the back to “take out the garbage” (a.k.a. inhale smoke like it was the only air she’d ever breathe).

She knew she had a choice. And she couldn’t shut up the voices inside.

All she could hear in her head was: Macy, keep to yourself. Strangers are danger, do you hear me?

But her heart told her something different.

As she took her last bite, she couldn’t take it anymore. Sitting there, watching this old guy not be able to take any bites at all. These waffles were far too delicious not to be enjoyed.

So, she did something she’d never done before: she broke a promise, she defied her mother.

All she did was simply get up and sit down at another table, when you think about it. She didn’t even say a word, she just smiled at the man, and she knew right away: his mind had gone somewhere else, and left his body here, trying to feed itself.

Technically, she wasn’t really doing anything wrong because she didn’t say a thing. And really, the last thing he needed were questions he couldn’t answer from a person he’d definitely forget.

Slowly but surely, she cut his waffles up into little pieces, just like she liked hers, and one by one, he tenderly used a spoon to eat each bite, with a shaky hand but it worked.

A thank you poured from his eyes, even if he didn’t fully know it. A you’re welcome came from her presence, her ability to be there with him without making him feel stupid that a little girl had to cut up his food.

Near the end, more from habit than anything, he pulled out his little black book, handed her the accompanying pencil, and pointed to the blank page. She knew this took all the energy he had. What an honor, really.

Slightly confused but too scared to speak, she wrote down her name: Macy Jones. Then she slid it back and got up from the table before her mama came back from her fix.

Little did she know, that tiny breaking of the rules, shifted her universe forever.

You see, another woman, a regular, watched this little scenario unfold, and she could feel the special spark in the air so she did what anyone would do: she captured the moment.

And when she shared it with her friends (hey, look at this! so sweet, right? #meltsmyheart), they shared it with their friends and pretty soon, one lonely girl’s small act of kindness had touched over a million stranger’s hearts, not just one.

They moved fast and found out who she was, what she needed and they wanted to give her something back, pay it forward, show her that her simple act of getting up to help meant something.

So, one week later, Macy opened her school inbox to find the email:

Subject line: *VERY IMPORTANT: PLEASE OPEN !!! Thank you Macy!*

And inside, was a request for her bank account information so the woman who witnessed the moment could wire her $20,000 she’d raised online. Money to put towards her future. Money to say thanks for being a good human and reminding us we should be better too.

And the woman who wrote the email, the witness, she said the funniest part was, after Macy left and the man was still there, she felt the urge to get up and go to his table too! For whatever reason, she asked to see what name was written in that little black book. And thank God she did, because you know, it went viral and all, and hey, do you want to try to get on TV together? A new car would be great, right! ;)

Macy wasn’t sure what to feel, but mostly, she was terrified to tell her mom, which she had to do, because she didn’t have a bank account of her own, all her earnings went to the family and she knew this would too— but she also knew that she could go to bed at night and know that at least just once, she heard that voice inside and did what it said to do.

And later in life, one day, when she was as old as that man, sitting in a diner alone, she’d realize what that meant. To be worn by a world, unable to do it on your own and to have someone, just one person, come over and extend a hand, literally. Whenever she ate waffles, she thought of him and wondered if he knew that he’d become famous, just for eating. What a world, she’d think. What a weird, weird world. Great waffles, though.