I hope that, someday, your concern for someone else, even a total stranger, is greater than your concern for your image.
That you find the humility to accept help when you need it.
That you respond to the question “Are you okay?” with grace, as opposed to a sneer.
You are our future, Dear Girl. The future of myself, and my children. And the future I saw yesterday was bleak, entitled, and snotty.
I hope that, someday, you see a girl crying on the side of a busy street and choose to offer your help to her, rather than drive past like dozens of others.
That she is thankful for the compassion you show her.
That she accepts your help, even if all it means is a ride home instead of an agonizing, tearful walk or bus ride.
That 10 years from now you will have found that a gesture of friendship can change the world around you, even if just for a moment.
We can’t all be emergency responders racing to the scene of a crime. But we can be responders in our own neighborhood, for our friends and family, to those we meet on the street.
I hope, Dear Girl, that you made it home safely.
That you were truly okay.
That, someday, even for an instant, you regret glaring and sneering at a woman who parked her car and her kids to make sure you were okay within 10 seconds of seeing you holding your head and sobbing on the side of that busy street.
That you had someone to tell what was wrong, without fear of judgement or consequence.
I hope, Dear Girl. Because what else can I do?