kind act 1

helps inspire kind act 2

which kind act three inspires kind act 1

gives a pencil to a child

child writes a card to stranger about his gift

stranger gives away pencils

Everyday at precisely 10:00 am, Rue could be seen exiting the Grand Farmstand. With her head down, and newly aquired groceries, she hurried past the lavender fields and through the evening's orange rays. She was never distracted. Without a minute to loose, she arrived at the station and stepped into the train and plopped onto the nearest seat. As the train began to start, she reached for her book. She noticed a young boy staring down at his notebook, bare and unwritten upon. He had a slight sadness juxtoposing his furrowed brows. The child refused to look elsewhere. Perhaps he had nothing to write with, Rue wondered. She returned to her book and read until she heard the train annouce her stop. Placing the book away, to her side she noticed the same boy, stuck in a similar state. fixated upon his open notebook unwilling to look away. In that moment, the doors opened and she readied herself to quickly exit the train. But her mind was distracted by the peculiar child. From her pocket she rummaged through and alongside a gum wrapped and a outstretched hair tie, was in fact a pencil. With a slight smile, she handed the boy the pencil, turned, and was out the door.

In his hands, was a yellow and white stripped pencil with a dull point. Why did that lady hand him this seemingly be and new pencil? It is true, that Gus possed no writing tools but at the same token, he was not looking for one. He did not want to ruin its crisp lined pages with schoolwork or anything else really. The notebook that lay on his lap was from his father. Gus would not see his father again. The sentence was final. He refused to believe his father guilty, leaving him with nothing besides this notebook. Was it a wretched thing or a hidden blessed. The thoughts swirled in his mind the entire train ride stopping abruptly at this interruption. A pencil from this stranger. He felt his grief momentarily fade and open a new image for him. a life of hope ahead. The young man, picked it up in that moment and decided to write.

You are not a wretched thing

you are a gift, I know

With this I write to you to say

be blessed

The first pages of the notebook thus said this, leaving Gus eyes welled with tears. Yet, Gus was not quite sure about it. He tore off the page immediately after, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. Once the train arrived at his home stop, he stepped off. He raced through the growing crowds, eager to get away to some place quiet. He past through the streets lined with pubs and took the route beyond the boat dock. He arrived at a boulvard of fraiser magnolias, at the brink of blooming. As he decided to take a seat under the shade, an old farmer walked along the road ahead. The lanky man in tattered shoes, cursed under his breath several times. Constant sun had caused his skin to leather while the lines that ran deep across his forehead and hands meant a life of hardship. As the farmer looked up at the boy, their eyes met. they let out a weak smile, with a upturned corner of their mouths, acknowledging the sadness that existed in each other. In that moment, the boy took out the folded paper in his pocket and held it out to the dusty man. The farmer took the paper and quickly hurried his way.

Alf awoke before sunrise that morning to prepare for the busy day ahead. He knew that people began coming to the farmstand for local eggs first thing in the morning. He was not ready for the day but he forced himself to get to the chicken coop and begin his daily collection. With a mere 14 eggs in hand, he headed for the farm stand. through the lavender fields that encircled the farm and over the creaking bridge, he contemplated his life. Alf was a overtaken by fear ever since the bird flu came last month - eighteen of his chickens died including his favotre silkie - Peaches. He was unprepared for the future that was thinning due to the significant decrease in egg supply - his only means of income. He found himself blaming himself for not learn other skills or invest when he had a thriving egg stand. He wouldn't make it past winter at this rate and he hated himself for being so poor and silly. In that moment, he found a folded paper in his pocket.

Reading the words "be blessed" a light sparked though his face. He felt encouraged and smiled, remembering the young boy handing it to him the day before. Proud, he set up his egg stand and waiting for the customers to arrive. Across him, the grand stand too was being set up overflowing green vegetables from the spring harvest. With a new found joy to light his day, Alf wanted to do what he always did when happy, give away some free eggs. However, he did not eggs to give away anymore. The first customer that came to his stand that morning asked for all the eggs he had. She was serious women with dropping eyes. Alf was exstaic to make his first and final sale of the day in one go. He handed her the eggs along with a yellow and white stripped pencil. Its all I can do, he thought.