Last year, I experienced an incident which could have been life-threatening.

Mom had vacated the house for the week and was headed to Houston, my grandmother (Grammy) in tow. Grammy was scheduled for tongue surgery at MD Anderson on Thursday, and Mom had volunteered to be her support group. My Dad, my sister and I were left to run the coop, and I had gained the status, “Woman of the house.” My other grandmother had just married on Saturday so my Aunt Debbie was staying with us as well as a family friend, Michaela. In other words, we had a full house.

Most likely because she took pity on us, a woman invited us for a delicious supper. Happy bellies and a twenty-minute drive later, we returned home. A giant black truck and trailer lurked in the circular driveway. For the first time in my life, I was a little terrified to drive toward my own house. Dad wasn’t home, and my car was filled with women. We were basically a moving, light-blue target.

I slowly pulled into the garage, trying not to appear like I was mentally panicking. My aunt, who sat shotgun, caught on to my mood and reassured me, “I’ll go check it out.” I felt my own responsibility because at the moment, I was technically the woman of the house, and unlatched my own seatbelt. For a short woman, Aunt Debbie has a strong, steady stride, and I had to use every extra inch of my height to catch up to her without running.

As we approached, a man clambered out of the truck and started toward us. My heart rate sped up. He was medium in height with tan skin and a scruffy face. His face was set in stone. By this point, I considered bolting back into the house. (It’s funny how the absence of both parents can completely transform my attitude. Usually, I would have no problem approaching strangers who appear at the house for business.)

He smiled and said, “I came out to let you know we’re waiting for Dave Brown. I was worried that we might have scared you.” Relief and surprise flooded through me. I told him “Thanks for letting us know” and “He’ll be here in a second” before walking back to the house with a considerably lighter trot. I suddenly felt amiable and considered inviting them inside to wait, but restrained myself. My mood had transformed from apprehensive to bubbly because of the kindness the man had shown us.

I don’t mean to be cliché, but don’t judge a book by its cover. I appreciate the lesson learned from a man who recognized the appearance of ill-intent, showed kindness and brightened my day. Thank you, stranger!