Unexpected guests at breakfast and what it can teach us about the world.

About 20 minutes ago a knock came at my door. I was just mixing the cream and sugar in the bottom of my coffee mug and was reaching for the hot pot that just finished brewing.

I’m alone in the house so it gave me a slight startle to hear a couple loud knocks this early. Even more startling is the fact that here in Cape Breton, where I live on the East coast of Canada, we are quite rural. And even more so strange, we’ve been dealing with a late lick of Winter, in April. Last night we received four inches of fresh snow on top of a freshly thawed spring ground, so travel is precarious this morning to say the least.

I go to the door and a bearded man in a spring jacket and shoes is standing on the doorstep. I think he is wearing shoes, I am unsure as his feet are somewhat under the snow and his jeans are caked up to his shins with powder. I can feel the cold rush and the warm rush out as soon as the door cracks open. Clearly, he is under dressed and unprepared for what he has found himself in. I push the door past the icy freeze it has been since the night before and it opens enough for us to see each other.

“Hello. Sorry, um Hi, my name is M***— and — can you tell us where the nearest gas station is? We aren’t from here and we’re basically out of gas. And not sure how much further it is. And i’m sorry to both— ” he says with some building desperation in his voice.

I cut him off by raising my hand slightly and smiling, I then reassure him he is no bother and explain that the nearest one (gas station)is about a 10 minute drive, maybe 10 kilometers. 10 kilometers is obviously too far by the look of defeat that crosses his face.

“ — Well, do you have like, a cup of gas?” he asks solemnly.

With no hesitating, I grab my shoes, put down my coffee of which I have not had a sip yet and put on my coat. “Of course man, at least I think so. Hold on.”

I always keep a spare red jug tied on the back of my ski-doo which has been stored in the shed since it’s last time out, I trudge outside in my boots to investigate. It’s there in case of any similar situations on in far more remote areas when me and my brother go for little day trips on the sleds. Luckily for the two guys standing in the yard, it’s still relatively full as I haven’t really had to use it yet.

So, I put as much gas as we could get out of the jug into their red Kia, then I just turn and say “There ya go now, and just keep going for another bit and you’ll come to an Irving on the left, and there is an Esso about a kilometer past that on your right.”

Then I continue. “And don’t worry man, if you ran out of gas around here i’m sure someone would help you.”

And he turned to me looking surprised. As if I was unaware of what was happening around me.

“Somebody already has.” he said.

And that folks is all it takes it be a good human being. I’m not a saint. I just do what I feel is right. I didn’t know these guys but I knew I couldn’t ignore them. I also know that if I were in a similar situation, I would’ve wanted someone to open the door and help me out. Even if I didn’t have gas, I would have helped them find some somehow. It is just what is right. Make the right choice.

They shook my hand half a dozen times and thank me over and over. Then they got in their car.

“Pass it on now, b’yes.” I said in my best embellished Cape Breton accent.

I walked back inside and took a sip of my coffee. It was ice cold by now. I smiled and poured out half into the kitchen sink and filled the rest with fresh, hot stuff. Turning, I walked back to the front window just in time to see them back down the driveway, waving and smiling when they noticed I was seeing them off. I waved and smiled back and continued my day. And I know it’s simple and hokey and whatever…but…

I really, really think that is all it takes to be a good human.

_MacLeod