Only a tiny patch of snow remains now in the grassy median strip that runs in front of my house. But a couple of days ago, the strip was covered with a thick layer of wet snow. It was impossible to run on it without getting an immediate case of soggy feet.
Just as I rounded the corner onto my street and moved to the side of the road to avoid the median strip, I spotted a smiley fellow who looked as if he had taken on a massive shoveling job. “Are you shoveling out the world?” I asked as I passed by.
“Nope,” he replied. “I’m just shoveling a path in this strip wide enough for people to run on. C’mon over.”
That I did and completed my run on a softer, friendlier surface than the one I had planned to use. Creating the path had required a good bit of work. I even went farther than I’d planned to in order to take advantage of the welcoming surface for at least a mile. It made me feel good.
I have no idea who the shoveler was or where he lives, but he has to be a neighbor. And he has to be a good guy.
I’m grateful for this tiny moment in my day, made brighter by the action of a stranger.