But they felt heavier than that.
I closed the notebook gently.
I started my own list.
***
Over the following months, it became a habit.
Nothing big or dramatic, just small things.
Covering someone’s bus fare.
Helping a coworker who was behind on rent.
Dropping off groceries for a family down the street.
I didn’t tell anyone.
Because I understood something now that I hadn’t before.
It wasn’t about the amount.
It was about the moment.
It became a habit.
***
One afternoon, Mae sat across from me at the table, watching me write.
“You’re doing what Arthur did, aren’t you?”
“Trying to,” I said, looking up.
She smiled a little. “I think he’d like that.”
I smiled.
“I hope so.”
***
A week later, I drove out to a quiet cemetery just outside the city.
Carter had given me the location.
“I think he’d like that.”
It took me a few minutes to find the marker with Arthur’s name.
