My doorbell doesn't ring that often.
And I'm actually very ok with that.
So when it rang earlier tonight, I stopped mid-stride and scrunched up my eyebrows. I have my sweaty shirt half-way off and I'm about to head for the shower. Not minutes before, I walked in from playing pickup soccer across the street. Now, with my head tilted to the side, I'm remembering that, yes, I do have a doorbell and that sound means I should go see who's there.
I'm hobble-shuffling my way down the stairs when I see my neighbor, Jason, smiling through the window. I try to be discreet about it, but I wipe the sweat from my face with my shirt one last time before turning the handle and swinging the door open.
"Two things" he says.
Cake—he's holding cake.
Wait, why is he holding cake?
"Want some cake?" he asks. "Susan had a going away party for someone at work and there were leftovers." A quick glance tells me it's some kind of carrot cake. Jason clarifies that it's a peach-mango something or other.
Andddd, yupp—I'm in.
"Second thing" he says, "we're having a block party this weekend and we'd love for you to join us."
By now, my eyebrows are certainly nowhere near scrunched anymore. After a round of thank-yous and goodnights, I close the door and find my feet stuck to the floor. Looking down at the slice of cake in one hand and the block-party invitation in the other, I feel my cheeks pull tight while a slow exhale slides out through my nose.
Hitting the outside lights with a smile, my feet snap out of it and I climb the stairs.
* * *
When's the last time someone made your day without knowing you really, really needed it?
onward.
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