The Little Things

by Sistah Shoop


 

Sistah Shoop leaned forward.  Her eyes rolled up into the top of her head.  There were no words in which to describe the pleasure she received from the hand scratching her back.  It was a spot which simply could not be reached by her hand.

 

She thought it was the little things in life that made the difference.  If people added them up they’d see how large the random acts of kindness pile would become.  She wanted to believe the great pyramids of Gaza would be dwarfed.

 

A dilemma Shoop felt.  Of course she knew she would thank the woman giving her the scratch.  But what other things did people give her, do for her and say nothing about.  Did she thank them every time?  Or is it yet another level of respect lost to modern society?

 

She wondered when the line between entitlement and thanks started to blur.  That’s what it was she thought, just like the fine line between acting cool and being an idiot, both cyclical in peoples’ lives.  The hand moved to another area of her back.  Shoop sighed in relief, its value: priceless.

 

Sistah Shoop knew she did things for people and it wasn’t about receiving praise, payment or the basic thank you.  It was more about doing because it gave her pleasure.  She couldn’t even remember if she’d received responses for the things she did and really, she didn’t care.  This was about her behavior on the flip side and making sure she wasn’t sitting back and freely lounging in someone else’s chair of effort.  She would dislike knowing she had taken advantage of another’s appreciation.

 

Despite it all, Shoop knew the world of acknowledgement required that one pay attention beyond their world.  There were many – many little things that deserved acknowledgment.

 

How many times should someone utter thank-you in their life?  Sistah Shoop felt there was no upper limit or any action so small it should go without one.  Appreciating others was certainly a way of appreciating oneself.  She felt good as the hand on her back stopped scratching.  Shoop turned around and smiled at the woman behind her.  Thank you, she said.

 

Written by Sistah Shoop 2004_05


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