“Mom,” he said as we drove home, his small face serious in the rearview mirror. “You did the right thing by helping that lady. I’m glad I have such a kind mommy.”
I smiled, blinking back tears. “Thanks, sweetheart. Sometimes being kind is more important than anything else.”
I let out a sigh. It would be nice to live in a world where what I’d said to Joey about being kind was true and absolute, but the world was not that simple.
These thoughts returned to haunt me three days later when someone knocked on our door at seven in the evening.
Joey was already in his pajamas, sprawled on the living room floor with his homework. He looked at me curiously as I went to open the door.
At first, I thought the woman standing there must have gotten the wrong address. She looked like she’d stepped out of a glossy fashion magazine with her elegantly styled hair, subtle makeup, and a cream-colored Gucci coat that probably cost more than three months of my rent.
Then I looked at her eyes and gasped.
It was the homeless woman from the Walmart parking lot! Despite the drastic changes in her appearance, I recognized her kind eyes immediately.
“What… what’s going on?” I stammered.
“May I come in?” she asked, her voice stronger and more refined than I remembered. “My name is Eliza, and I owe you an explanation.”
I nodded dumbly, stepping aside to let her in.
“Mom?” Joey called from the living room. “Who is it?”
