Despite Covid panic, my home sold quickly in March 2020. I loved the central location, open concept, and ten-foot ceilings as well as my neighbours, friends, and activities.
My life was there, in Ottawa.
My family members lived in British Columbia and Alberta, and I was getting to that age when I just might need family support and, if I decided to move west, it would be a wise decision.
I had spent two shivering winters on the Pacific coast and decided, that, of course I could manage independently, enjoying new adventures, new friends. It would be a new adventure.
I began to regret my decision after my home was sold and my belongings either sold or given away, even though my son, Tim, was there to help and encourage me.
I had enjoyed living in Calgary, Winnipeg, and the great metropolis of Camp Petawawa when I was married. We military wives were pretty much on our own, a company of women supporting one another.
On July 29th, 2020, I denied my emotions as I locked the door for the last time. I hugged my neighbours and marched numb to meet my friend, Valerie who stood, patiently beside her car as she had promised.
We drove west to pick up Barbara, another dear friend with whom I would stay for five days because the airlines had changed the date of my flight west. We three had already discussed what we might do that afternoon, but the final decision had yet to be made. I would have agreed to almost anything that day.
Wandering through a few shops that warm sunny afternoon, we exchanged ideas about which restaurant would be the fortunate spot to get our business that evening. Because it was a beautiful, sunny, summer day, one of my two lifesavers suggested that we might enjoy dinner on an outdoor patio. We headed to Milestones before six o’clock. The large patio almost empty, we were able to pick our own table, sit, sip and chat.
I felt my stress decreasing as I relaxed, sipped, and laughed with friends, remembering special times we had shared. Each main course hit the spot and, as we finished dessert, we asked our waiter for our bill.
” It’s paid in full”, he murmured, moving away.
Barbara immediately asked for an explanation. “A gentleman wanted to pay for the meal for you three ladies!” He answered, pointing to the far end of the patio. Barbara bounced to her feet and holding the waiter’s arm firmly, marched away to confront the fellow accused of unexpected generosity.
Val and I may still have had our mouths open when Barbara returned to our table with a tall, handsome, middle-aged gentleman who would need to admit or confess his error.
His name was Jean-Phillipe, he began. Born in rural Quebec, he was one if twenty-two children. Because of poverty, he had few educational opportunities and he had enlisted in the military. Serving overseas, he experienced dangerous situations from which he had not expected to survive.
Now retired from military duty, he smiled, saying how grateful he was to have a safe, well-paid position now, working on Ottawa’s new rail line.
“But why did you pay for our dinners?” asked Barbara.
“I saw you three ladies laughing and talking. You reminded me of my aunts. I wanted to do it, to pay it forward!”
We thanked him for his kindness, thoughtfulness, and generosity once more, shaking his hand, wanting to hug him, although we knew that he was embarrassed, itching to escape our attention.
Jean-Pierre is an example of kindness, generosity, respect, and thoughtfulness in today’s world. There are thousands of caring people around us, from whom we can learn.
Thank you, Jean-Pierre!
By J Alexander