CINDY

 A story written by our oldest daughter Sarah.

On the brink of tears, clutching a painfully tight budget,  I stepped into the curtain store I’d been told about. My new house stood bare, windows exposed, walls echoing. To some, curtains are decor. To me, as a single mum, curtains meant sanctuary. Cindy the shop technician took one look at me and knew. Through snotty tears and crumpled paper measurements, she somehow translated my chaos into centimetres. Calmly and steadily, she moved between measuring tape and calculator. Back and forth she went - rods, brackets, those mysterious hooky things - assembling not just curtains, but a sense of order. My budget was $500. Cindy worked her magic. $497.80. Every window covered. Every detail considered. Every dollar honoured.

I asked if I could hug her, but before I’d even finished the sentence, I was enveloped in the kind of embrace only a mum can give - firm, grounding, wordless. All aroha. She had other customers to attend to, so I carried my bundles of fabric to the car, not just curtains but relief folded neatly over my arm. That job may have only mattered to me… but Cindy made it matter to her too.

Next door was a cafe , so I purchased a gift for her. It was small, but sincere. 

In the middle of my unraveling, Cindy met me with dignity and respect. 

Be like Cindy today. You might just hold someone together long enough for them to breathe again.