Immigrants Giving to Us.

I had the grandkids at a thrift shop to replace daughter Peace’s PJ’s that she forgot to bring along on the trip here to South Carolina and Minnesota. We did look a bit like a motley crew. My knee hurt and I was in a wheelchair with my 7 year old grand daughter Bailey pushing me. The others were running around and being reasonably noisy. As we waited at the dressing room for our turn, Alissa our 9 year old was listening to the non-stop dialogue of a little Latino girl. They were having a good time.  The little girl’s English was completely fluent, but I asked in Spanish where she was from. She said Honduras. The grandkids asked for quarters for the gum/novelty machines. Being me, my answer was only if you have your own quarter. Alissa did have one quarter, but the machine “ate” it. Disappointment. Right then a young Latino boy (friend, cousin, brother to the little girl?) who had listened and watched the whole process came over and gave Alissa and Bailey a quarter each for the machines. Immigrants giving to us… on the most fundamental of levels. Tears in my eyes.