The Kindness of Strangers
Christmas is more than a simple holiday to me, it’s a day that changed my life.
When I was 11 years old, I didn’t wake up to presents; I woke to a freezing trailer, some screaming in the next room, followed by my stepdad pealing out of the driveway. My 6 year old little brother and I knew to stay in our room until it was safe to come out. Finally, my mom came in, tears streaming down her bruised face, and told us to dress in layers - and do it quickly.
I didn’t know what was happening; where were we going? We were stuck back in the woods - far from any neighbors. We didn’t have another car, we didn’t have a phone. It was below freezing outside, with about a foot of snow on the ground.
Still, I did what I was told without question, eager to get away - anywhere would be better. Once I was dressed in 3 layers of clothes and a coat, I helped get my brothers ready as my mom packed a plastic shopping bag full of diapers and powdered baby milk for my youngest brother, who was only a year old.
Then, we were off to the woods.
Mom said we’d just keep walking until we found a light from a neighbor’s house. She knew the general direction we were going in, but we had to stay far away from the main road so my stepdad wouldn’t find us. We walked all day, freezing, tired, and aching, my little brothers crying most of the way. Our clothes were soaked from the snow. Northern Missouri is hilly, and when we’d reach the bottom of one, it was so cold it felt like bathing in freezing water. Each time, my mom would tell us ‘Just look up at the sun at the top of the hill! We’ll get there and it’ll be so warm!” And she was right; once we’d reach the top of the hill, in comparison to the gullies, it felt like a warm spring day.
We could hear my stepdad’s truck speeding up and down the main gravel road, his angry screams echoing all around us. And though we knew he couldn’t see us, we’d still fall to the ground until the sounds faded out and he was further away.
Once, my 7-month pregnant mom, holding my baby brother, lost her footing at the top of a hill, and they both tumbled down a steep embankment about 20 feet. The plastic bag that held my brother’s powdered milk ripped open, disappearing into the snow. I thought we were all going to die in that instant. We were in the middle of the woods, no one knew we were there, and I’d never be able to find my way out - or find my way back. If they were injured (or dead), we were stuck there. Lost. We’d freeze to death before we’d starve.
Luckily, by some miracle, they were both okay.
The sun was nearly setting when we reached the top of our final hill.
In the distance stood a big white house, covered in yellow Christmas lights. These distant neighbors had just moved in about a month prior. We knew this because my stepdad would always call them ‘rich city slickers who needed to go back where they came from’. We’d never talked to them before, though.
I don’t think I’ve ever ran as fast as I did that day - we all ran. We had to get to their house quickly before my stepdad could come back up the road and spot us.
The lady, seeing our state of distress, quickly let us in the house - not even asking a question. The warmth stung my frozen, numb skin as she brought out blankets. Her teenage daughter quickly got some of her clothes for me and my mom to change into. My little brothers warmed up in oversized t-shirts. And then they gave us leftovers to eat of their Christmas dinner. I watched cable tv for the first time - cartoons on Nickelodeon - as my mom explained our situation. We had no where else to go. She was desperate; our extended family was just as abusive and didn’t care.
We’d tried getting away by car what felt like hundreds of other times - one time, of which, my stepdad had climbed on the car as we were trying to get away and stomped his foot through the windshield, shattering glass all over us. When we reached my grandparents like that, it was only a few hours before he found us and they told my mom she should go back. It was her husband. It was the ‘right’ thing to do.
He came to the neighbor’s house once, crazed, looking for us, and we hid in a room as she told him she hadn’t seen us.
At midnight that night, once we didn’t hear my stepdad on the road anymore, the neighbor lady and her daughter drove us to a safehouse in St. Louis - an easy 100 miles away. On Christmas night, these complete strangers took us in and drove us to safety - and they did it with a smile. It still astounds me today.
It was a new beginning, a seed of hope, and a beautiful example of the kindness and generosity that can be found in complete strangers.
It was - and still is - the best present I’ve ever received.
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