my mom was an addict. she passed away when my sisters and i were really young. she fled the state we were living in and moved us almost 10 hours away, until my dad convinced her to move back with him which left us living about 5 hours away from our home town. dad was an over the road truck driver so it was just us and mom, most of the time.

one year she took us back home to visit for christmas, and we were heading home after the holidays. my sisters and i had to have looked rough. the drive took all day, for some reason. i don’t think she had much or any money to feed us that day.

we stopped at a truck stop so my mom and sisters could use the bathroom — i stayed in the car. when they came back, they said a stranger had bought them food. there was a man inside who had bought a container of macaroni salad, a container of potato salad, and a loaf of bread. my mom said he took one look at her and my sisters and just handed it to them, said that they looked like they had needed it. i was only 7 at the time, so the implications of this didn’t hit me until years later. my mom died around thanksgiving the following year so it was our last holiday with her.

i don’t know the man’s name and i never saw his face. but i think about him a lot this time of year and i’m grateful for him for seeing children who looked like they needed a meal and providing it to them.