The Lazy Gate

A Story by Jeff Loquist

Uncommon kindness seldom gets noticed

I sat across the street fro the old, wooden house for over 24 hours. I watched as vehicles came and went, some of them slowing and all looking at the idiot truck driver that was stuck in the turnaround. As the day sun slowly sank into the western sky on the second day depression began to set in a little bit. While it was nothing that would bring about the demise of me, it was enough to make me question my choice in careers and basically begin to feel sorry for myself.

I hate feeling sorry for myself.

About 27 hours into my “adventure” I began to feel the urges of nature. While I had watched the vehicles and their inhabitants as they entered and exited the facility before me, it never hit me that they may have a restroom that I could use. Why this realization took so long I can only attribute to boredom and annoyance. I decided to see if they would allow me to use the facilities.

I wrote a note for the tow truck driver to call me if they showed up in my absence and left my cell phone number for them to call me and trudged across the snow-caked highway and to the fence that surrounded the facility.

The wind-burned and sun-dried wooden fence was opened near the highway; an iron gate tipped up towards the sky to allow people to pass through. A small sign by the mailbox read “Lazy Gate” and had a telephone number underneath it. As I walked to the entrance a pickup pulled off the highway and the woman driving rolled down the window, motioning for me to come closer.

I asked if they had a restroom that I could use. She looked into the parking lot behind me and told me to wait where I was and she would find out. She returned shortly after and waved me into the wood paneled building. As I came close she said that it was a group home and even though she wasn’t supposed to, her boss was out and she would let me use the restroom.

As I exited the bathroom I saw her through the doorway. She was busy buttering a peanut butter sandwich. When she was finished, she handed me the sandwich, some Sun Chips, a Jell-O cup and a Sunkist. She said that she hated seeing me sitting out there and hoped the food would help.

It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for me in a long while.

Sometimes we forget that it truly is the little things that make the difference in peoples’ lives. I no longer feel bad for my situation. In fact, I feel pretty good. I got something to eat, was able to use the restroom and know that the tow guy will be here some time today. And as if her kindness wasn’t enough already, she came across the street a little while later and said that she gets off work at five and would give me a ride into town so I could get some food and stuff if I was still here.

I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that she was so kind and generous. She works in a group home and that in itself is a thankless job that rarely gives any kind of rewards above not seeing the kids you work with ending up in prison. But maybe for people like her, all the thanks you need is seeing a troubled child better themselves or a dirty truck driver grateful for your generosity.