Sincerely, A Friend

My entire life so far has been boring. I grew up in cookie cutter, suburban housing with a mom that drove a minivan. I ate box mac and cheese more than once a week during my youth and I wore clothes bought on sale from stores that sold underwear on an aisle across from frozen food. And everything was gray. I’m talking, all the shades of gray you could imagine everywhere. Cool tones and quiet atmosphere. Where was the adventure? Where was the excitement? Where was the color?

I used to dream that some day I would get a whole load of money and be able to go off and see the world, to find the color and vibrance and everything my life had lacked so far. Unfortunately, it’s always been far too easy to just continue being, well, gray. Everyone wants to be a funky purple or bright yellow. But gray just caught me up in its net and refused to let go. It trapped me in the comfort of what I had always known while I daydreamed that things would become more exciting. Everything has remained boring. Everything up until the day that I found the little black book.

It started out ordinary. I ate my bowl of cereal in my plain gray apartment because that’s what you graduate up to if you lived in the suburbs, an apartment in the same shades you’ve always lived your life in. I headed out for a walk, to get some fresh air and maybe daydream of all the potential for excitement. I had just settled into the idea that maybe I should get a dog when I found it, the little black book. It was under a bench, looking entirely unassuming and unimportant, not a single person in sight to lay claim to the thing. And my head, still full of potential and possibilities and a dog or a trip to someplace colorful, decided to take a chance and pick the thing up. Maybe it was full of poems or art or the name of the owner so I could return it. Instead, there was a single page of writing and it included a list. My interest piqued, and I took a seat on the bench to find out what the deal was with this notebook.

Dear Reader,

There is not enough kindness in the world these days. I’ve seen so much pain and cruelty. I do not know you, Reader, but I wish to give you a challenge. Follow my list. Follow my instructions and go forth and make the world a little bit kinder. Follow each task and make sure to record yourself as you go, to remind others and yourself of what kindness should look like. I’ll even make it worth your while, but you must perform each task.

1. Assist an elderly person.

2. Help someone who can’t help themselves.

3. Make a child’s day.

4. Lend a hand or ear to someone who needs it.

When you have completed each task and have proof, go to the nearest post office where you found this notebook and ask for Sharon. She will know what to do from there. If you do not choose to participate, please place this notebook back where you found it.

Sincerely,

A friend

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It sounded something close to a modern-day treasure hunt combined with small acts of human kindness. The list looked like it couldn’t be that hard. I was already on a walk and it was my day off. What could it possibly hurt to try to help people? I could always stop part way through if I didn’t want to finish and put the book back where I found it, right? So, I started to do something that, for once, didn’t feel completely boring.

The moment I made the decision to pursue the list’s tasks, I felt a thrill of excitement. I was stepping outside of my comfort zone for the first time in, well, ever. I was doing something that didn’t come with a known outcome, that was not part of my plan, that was entirely new to me. Now, I just had to find an elderly person. Not something I thought I would need to do at any point in my life, but I was now searching for someone older than myself who might need help.

I wanted to be smart about my course of actions, maybe go to an assisted living facility or something, but sometimes, opportunities just happen. I was walking by the local market when I spotted an older woman struggling with her groceries, trying to cross the crowded street in the lot but no one would stop for her. I rushed over, holding a hand up to stop one of the bustling cars that was driving by and offered a wide smile to the woman. She instantly looked suspicious. Why do people always jump to the worst-case scenario?

“Can I help you?” I asked, maybe coming off a little overly eager.

“Well, I suppose,” she seemed to relent. Excited to have the first task underway, I pulled out my cellphone and started to video myself reaching for one of the bags to help carry them. Immediately, the woman grabbed a bushel of romaine lettuce from her grocery bag and smacked me over the head with it. “I know your type! Those weirdos from the internet who video themselves helping people! Influencers! You don’t actually care about anyone!” She smacked me over the head again before starting to head off with her groceries. I was completely dumbfounded.

“Wait, wait,” I called after her, catching up again, my phone still recording the parking lot as I walked. “That’s not what this is. At least, I don’t think so,” I started trying to explain. “Just, do you have a minute?” I asked. She looked disgruntled but at least she wasn’t hitting me with lettuce anymore. She paused and nodded reluctantly. “Check it out. I found this notebook. And I just, wanted to try to help. But they want me to prove it.” I handed her the notebook. She handed me one of her grocery bags and we walked, side-by-side, toward her car. Her expression changed. Neither of us realized I was helping her after all, until we came to a stop by her car and she finished reading the note.

“I’m sorry. I had it wrong. This isn’t one of those internet things. Thank you for your help,” she softened, opening her car and putting one of the bags inside. She handed me back the notebook and then placed another of the bags in her car. We stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out if what I had just done even really counted and she smiled at me. “That list really isn’t bad,” she offered. “They’re right, you know. The person who wrote that thing. We do need more kindness. Thank you for helping me with my groceries. Even if you are calling me old.” She laughed at her own sentiment and gave me a pat on the shoulder, dismissing me. I laughed too; glad things had turned around. I felt something shift inside me. Things felt, pink and bright. I had to keep going.

I completed the next two tasks quickly, going to a playground and walking on the path. I made a kid’s day by helping them find their lost shoe in the sandbox and I helped someone who couldn’t help themselves by getting a cat free when it caught itself in some trash nearby. I tried my best to record both. I felt shades of yellow at the child’s elation and orange at the thrill of the cat bursting from its trap. I moved on.

I wandered for a while before running into a woman who was crying at a bus stop. I sat down and listened. She told me how her roof was leaking, and she didn’t have the money to fix it. I was subtle when I recorded because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew how to help, but I told her maybe I could get some friends to help fix it for her. She wrote her phone number on a gum wrapper and I put it in my pocket and told her there would be better days ahead. I felt a different kind of color, a deep purple, blue shade. It was a mix of happy and sad, a comfort sort of feeling.

Unsure where my story would lead, I headed to the post office near the bench where everything began. It was a pretty quiet part of the day and the place was empty. I spotted Sharon sitting behind the counter at the front of the room, the only employee working. She took one glance down at the notebook in my hand and smiled.

“We got another one,” she said to herself, something like pride in her eyes. “Show me your proof,” she told me, seeming to know exactly what was going on. Fumbling a bit with my phone out of nerves, I pulled up the first video. I handed it to Sharon, and she watched me get beat over the head with the lettuce, laughing hysterically the entire time. She watched the rest of the videos and had this look on her face the entire time, like this was her favorite part of the day. “You did good kid,” she rewarded me with this grin that felt like a refreshing green, brightening me from the inside out. “Come on honey, we’ll get your worthwhile from the P.O. box in the hall.” She walked me along a row of boxes and opened one with a special key she wore around her neck. From inside, she pulled out a check. “So, what ya gonna spend it on?” she asked, genuinely curious. I took a moment to look at the sum of money on the check. It was a lot. For me anyway. 20,000 dollars. I could travel and go see all the places I always imagined would bring color to my life. I could see more of the world than I had so far. But I knew I needed to do something else.

“I think I know some people who might need this,” was all I could think to say. She gave me a hug and sent me out the door. I cashed the check. I called the woman who needed her roof fixed and gave her the money she needed. I bought a bunch of sand toys and bubbles and sidewalk chalk and brought it back to the park to help make the day of another kid somewhere. I donated money to the shelter, thinking of that cat that had gotten stuck in the trash. I tried to use as much of it in as many good ways as I could think. I didn’t record any of it, but I wrote down how I felt and, when I was done, I realized something. I had felt colors I had never felt before. It was like a rainbow or a sunset or a box of crayons. I had spent my whole life so far thinking I needed to go to some far away place to feel vibrance when all I really needed was to stop for a moment and think of someone other than myself. And suddenly, my life had more color than ever, all thanks to a little black book.