Wrigleyville. A busy morning on the rooftop of Old Crow Smokehouse. Crowds of people moving past, focused on their own destinations, their own plans. And in the middle of it all, a blind Cubs fan trying to hail a cab.
He stood there for several minutes, arm raised, waiting for a driver to notice him and pull over. But cabs don’t always stop when they should. And people don’t always see what’s happening right in front of them. He could have been standing there much longer, invisible in the way that people with disabilities often are—present but overlooked, needing help but not receiving it.
Then a young girl noticed.
No idea who she was. Just someone passing through who saw what everyone else had missed: a man who needed help and wasn’t getting it. She walked up and asked him if he needed help hailing a cab. Simple question. But it changed everything.
He said yes. And she stayed.
She stood there with him until a cab pulled up. Didn’t just wave one down and leave. Didn’t consider her good deed done the moment she’d asked the question. She stayed. Made sure he was safe. Made sure the cab actually stopped. Made sure he wasn’t left standing there alone again after she walked away.
And before the cab pulled away, she said something that he probably carried with him for the rest of the day: Have a wonderful day.
Not “good luck” or “take care” or any of the throwaway phrases we use when we want to exit a situation politely. But a genuine wish for his day to be wonderful. An acknowledgment that he deserved joy, not just survival. That she’d helped him not out of pity but because she believed his experience mattered.
Awesome to see such kindness in this busy world. That’s the response from the person who witnessed this and felt compelled to share it. Because it is awesome. It’s rare enough that it stands out. Rare enough that strangers notice and remember and feel moved to tell others about it.
We live in a world that rewards speed and self-focus. Where stopping to help means losing time, missing appointments, falling behind on whatever we’ve convinced ourselves is urgent. Where helping strangers feels risky or uncomfortable or simply not our responsibility.
But this young girl didn’t think that way. She saw someone who needed help, and she helped. She stayed until the job was done. She offered kindness not as a transaction but as a genuine expression of care for another human being.
The blind man was trying to hail a cab for several minutes. Think about what that feels like. Standing there, arm raised, hoping that someone will see you and stop. Knowing that you can’t make eye contact with drivers. Can’t wave more emphatically. Can’t do anything except stand there and hope that someone notices and cares enough to help.
And then someone did. A young girl who could have walked past like everyone else. Who had no obligation to stop. Who probably had her own plans and places to be. But she stopped anyway.
She stood there with him until one pulled up. That detail matters. She didn’t just call out to a cab and keep walking. She invested her time, her presence, her willingness to see the situation through. She made sure he was actually helped, not just noticed.
And then she wished him a wonderful day.
That’s the kindness that changes things. Not grand gestures or big donations, but small acts of attention. Seeing people who are being overlooked. Offering help that costs us nothing but time. Staying until the job is done instead of congratulating ourselves for asking the question and then leaving.
The person who shared this story wants her kindness to spread. Wants other people to see this example and think: I could do that. I could be the person who stops when everyone else keeps walking. I could be the one who stays until help actually arrives.
Because that’s how kindness multiplies. Not through lectures or demands, but through examples that remind us what’s possible. That show us we have the power to make someone’s day easier, better, more connected.
The young girl probably doesn’t know this story was shared. Probably went about her day thinking she’d done something small and unremarkable. But the blind man knows. The person who witnessed it knows. And now everyone who reads this knows: that somewhere in Wrigleyville, on a busy morning, a young girl saw someone who needed help and she stayed with him until he was safe.
That’s the world we should be building. Not one where helping is extraordinary, but one where it’s normal. Expected. The thing we do automatically when we see someone struggling. But until we get there, we need to celebrate the people who do it anyway. The young girls who stop and ask and stay. Who remind us that kindness isn’t complicated. It’s just a matter of paying attention and deciding that other people’s wellbeing matters as much as our own convenience.
Share freely in hopes that her kindness spreads. Because it should spread. Because we need more of this. More people who notice. More people who stay. More people who wish strangers a wonderful day and mean it.