A French Remedy

I am continually surprised by people.

My legs have been getting worse. Some days now it hurts to walk with every step and stairs have become my enemy. I find myself dreading the moment I arrive home and have to climb up the forty stairs it takes to reach my apartment.

By the time I reach the top I am out of breath from trying to keep walking, forcing my body to do what it apparently does not want to do. It is the same each morning, going to work, where I can feel the muscles in my legs start to convulse almost the moment I am out of the door.

I have tried walking at a slower pace, walking faster. I have tried breathing exercises, counting, trying to convince myself that I cannot feel the pain. Nothing seems to be working.

This morning was no different. Walking through the market, I felt my leg muscles start to contract and expand, contract and expand. Each step was becoming more painful. I could already feel my shoulder muscles knotting together, absorbing the stress of trying to walk.

I took a breather in front of one of the market stalls. A vendor was setting up her plants and flowers for the day and she smiled at me. She was a large woman with bright blue eyes, curling blond hair and a happy smile.

The following conversation took place in French. While I can speak it, I can’t spell it to save my life, so forgive me if I massacre it to pieces. I’ll provide translation for those who don’t know French at all.

“Bonjour,” she said. Hello.

“Bonjour.” I replied, smiling as much as I could.

“Vous et malade?” she asked. Are you sick?

“Non,” I said. “J’ai un petit grippe dans mon jambre.” I said. My legs are sore.

“Oh,” she said. “Es-qu vous et boisson des Tylonol? Un cafe?” Do you want some Tylonol? A coffee? Here, she gestured to a thermos that I knew held her days supply of coffee. For her to offer some to me seemed like a blessing.

I shook my head and smiled at her. “Non, merci Madamme. Vous et tres gentil.” No, thank you, M’am. You are very generous.

“C’est rein, Monsieur.” It’s nothing. “Faite attention aujourd’hui et passe un belle journe Monsieur.” Be careful today and have a beautiful day, Sir.

“Et vous aussi, Madamme.” You too, M’am.

I walked away from her feeling better. Such a simple gesture, someone offering me her coffee or something to take away my pain, seemed wondrous.

That a stranger would reach out to me lifted my spirits greatly. That she would be concerned enough to inquire about my welfare seemed forigen. It says a lot about our society that I was so shocked and thrown off balance by such a brief exchange of words.

I don’t know if she will ever realize how much she did for me with her simple act of kindness.

It was only when I got to work that I noticed my legs didn’t hurt anymore.

About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, number-one bestselling author. He writes in many different genres. Learn more at www.jamiesonwolf.com
This entry was posted in People, Spasms, Walking. Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to A French Remedy

  1. Narziss says:

    That is just so amazingly beautiful.

    Interestingly, I have been discussing about something similar lately with a few people: that when I was in Switzerland for a while, it was so wondrous the way people, complete strangers, used to bond like one society. You couldn’t walk down the street without being greeted by every single passer by; and a greeting that came from the heart.

    Here where I live, in India, it is so frustrating that people are downright selfish and egoistic. Committing to simplest of nice gestures makes them feel they would degrade themselves. Instead of a greeting or even a small nod, you are more likely to be stared at, almost with furious anger, by passers-by when you walk on a street.

    I seriously hope from the bottom of my heart that your leg grows better.

    Take Care. 🙂

  2. Jan says:

    What a sweet exchange! Such a simple thing, kindess, and yet, so seldom given.

    God’s blessing on your Jaimeson!


  3. Dorothy says:

    Awww…I am about to cry! Jamieson, I had no idea. You know, I know you had cerebral palsy but your attitude is so cheerful online that I don’t even think about that at all. What a dose of reality. Love you, man.

  4. That was so beautiful. It is the simple acts of kindness which make life so much better. I know people say New Yorkers are hard, but I can’t tell you how many times I see one New Yorker help another. Every time I see that, I realize there’s still some humanity left in the world. It also makes me remember that I can be part of that humanity.

  5. Wanza says:

    I love to hear stories like these. It’s so amazing how a kind word can change a person’s entire day. Keep well J.

  6. Joyce says:

    Angels are everywhere, my friend–it appears you found one 🙂 Thank you for sharing this–not only did this woman’s kindness touch you, it touched me also. I wonder if she knows how far-reaching her kindness has become?

  7. Jeannie says:

    Those reandom acts of kindness are such good remedies for anything that ails you, Jamison. They take you out of your own thoughts and place you in another’s heart. The market woman is probably going to have beautiful dreams tonight because of her simple act. If everyone did one small thing like she did every day, wouldn’t this world be a happier place?


  8. Narziss says:

    oh, I’m sorry; in my previous comment I did not know you had cerebral palsy as I was new to your blog.

    But, as someone said above, you are remarkably cheerful! Keep that up!

    God bless you!

  9. Laura says:

    Jamieson, you never cease to amaze me. I think that is just beautiful and to share that with everyone reminds us that sometimes the smallest gesture can make the biggest difference. Thank you, and blessings to you.

    Laura 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s