There’s been many special moments in my life, and some – regretfully – I have forgotten. There was one event I had forgotten about completely, had it not been my dearest brother reminiscing about it over dinner. It was a very simple event, which makes it easy to forget, but nonetheless, it had a powerful impact on me as well. It happened to me about two years ago, and it went like this:

I was out shopping with mum. I was carrying about 7 environmentally-friendly, reusable, ‘say-no to plastic bags’ shopping bags in both hands, and trying to dodge incoming human traffic without losing sight of mum through the crowd.

I got my lucky break when mum stopped at a fruit shop to admire the various species of mangoes. I looked around for a seat outside the shop.

There were quite a lot of people standing, and all the seats were full – except one. I looked around and saw no one rush to take up the seat, so I plodded over and sat myself down. I put down my load and eased into the chair. Then I noticed the woman sitting next to me. A middle-aged woman with rusted burgundy hair, holding two melting ice-creams. She made some attempt to lick the ice-cream once in a while, but her movement was slow and lapsed that the ice-cream ran down over her hands and all over her clothes. I saw passers-by staring, and some passing by pretending not to see.

I never did this before, but I told myself that i want to care. And now i realise how powerful that can be. So I got up, gathered all 7 shopping bags in my right hand and went to the nearby ice-cream parlour. I asked for some tissues, but – seeing I wasn’t a customer – the shop attendant just gave me ONE hesitantly.  I returned to the seat – which remained empty – and handed the tissue to the woman. Seeing the woman unable to take the tissue, I began to gently clean the ice-cream from the woman’s face, hands and clothes. One tissue was not enough. I was just about to go for more tissues when the woman mumbled something. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but I tried patiently to hear her. Finally she heard it, “Can you push me forward please?”

I lifted the woman to an upright position, and helped her to her feet. The woman stumbled a little, but regained her composure. She slowly turned to face me, “Thank you so much. I have Parkinson’s. It makes my muscles get stiff and tremor. It makes me move slower. So thank you so much for stopping.” And with that, she walked slowly away and disappeared into the crowd.

Later, as I walked away with my mother and her mangos, I saw the woman again. She wasn’t moving slow; she was all clean, and the ice creams were gone. She walked like everyone else, and didn’t even notice when I walked past her. I felt like waving to her, but thought better of it. I felt what I had to do what was done, and that was enough.

Even though i forgot the story until my brother reminded me of it, i never forgot the lesson learnt. I hope you cherish the opportunities that come your way to reach out to those around you, and find a connection with them and also yourselves.