Helen the Pink Flamingo

A few days ago, I was at the neighborhood pharmacy with my nearly four-year-old daughter in order to send a package to my sister and nephews who live in Texas. Since the start of the Pandemic and the stay-at-home restrictions, this was a rare mother and daughter outing. Little Bea marveled at every item in the store, her eyes twinkled above her child-size dinosaur print face mask. I sighed sadly. She walked slowly and pointed to every single object on display.

“Mama, look at this soap!”

“Mama, there is so much paper for the toilet.”

“Oh! Can I have these crayons?”

“I really want this for our house (a brightly colored tub of shoe polish.)”

She was like a kid in a candy store -except this time the store was filled with household cleaning products instead of candy.

We eventually arrived to the Canada Post station at the back of the store and I proceeded to the counter. I let my girl wander around the nearby shelves as I completed the paperwork for the package.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my daughter approach the tall rotating display of stuffed toys.

“Wow! Look at the flamant rose, it’s pink and I like rosa too.”

“No touching please, just look with your eyes.” I went back to my mail.

“Which one do you like?” A well-dressed African American young woman wearing a pressed beige coat, dress pants, and high heeled polished black boots addressed my daughter.

“Show me the one that you like and I will get it for you.”

I internally rolled my eyes; we have too many toys at home and enough stuffed animals for an entire classroom. I thought to myself: What is she doing? Who does she think she is?

“Please sign here. How would you like to pay for the package?” I re-direct my attention to the clerk and hope that my daughter will ignore the stranger talking to her.

Bea walks around the rotating display of toys observing each one very carefully. There is a huge lime green dinosaur and a tiny purple plush owl with big pleading eyes.

“Choose a toy. Which one would you like?” the stranger gently encourages my daughter from behind her blue medical mask and a respectable 2m distance.

Bea takes in all the toys and slowly approaches the display. She reaches for the small brown bear then hesitates and steps back in order to survey each push animal. Eventually, she reaches for the Pink Flamingo and hands it quickly over to the lady in the beige coat.

“Stay here. I’m going to pay for it. I’ll be right back” the woman says to my little girl.

I return to the clerk and continue my transaction as the shopper walks towards the cash registers located near the exit of the store. I brace myself, internally, for a major meltdown.

Within earshot, Bea wanders around the shampoo aisle observing the images and colors on the different bottles of shampoo and conditioner as if we were in a museum.

To my great surprise -and embarrassment- the well dressed lady returns a few minutes later with the pink flamingo plush toy tucked under her arm.

“Here you go. I paid for it at the front. Now it is yours to keep.”

Bea grabs the toy greedily and cuddles it to her chest. Her eyes are beaming. Her smile is huge behind her little face covering.

“Thank you. That was not necessary.” I exclaim!

“It’s my pleasure. The kids are going through such a hard time right now. I wanted to make her smile.”

“What do we say Bea?”

“Gracias.”

The woman is about to leave, I ask my daughter, “What should we name your new pink flamingo?”

We both look timidly towards the woman in the light beige coat.

“Comment tu t’appelles? What is your name?” my daughter whispers.

“My name is Helen.”

“What a lovely name. We will call the flamingo Helen.”

We smile at each other through our medical masks as we say goodbye.

“Thank you and goodbye. I hope this whole Covid thing will soon be a distant memory for us all.” I babble nervously.

On our drive home Bea is very happy, she makes Helen sing along to her songs. She makes Helen dance with her long legs to the music on the radio. “I love Helen and Helen loves me.” The Pink Flamingo now accompanies Bea everywhere we go.

Yesterday my eldest son asked me if we could go back to the store where his sister got Helen. I patiently explained that I did not buy the pink flamingo, it was a kind lady who offered it to her. In the meantime, I will avoid bringing my daughter to the same post office at the pharmacy; just in case it creates the expectation that each time we go to the store she will receive a toy…

I must admit that I hesitated at first to accept the gift from a total stranger but it all happened so fast that there was little place for me to object. I rationalize that giving the stuffed toy to my daughter made both of them happy. So it is my duty to pay this good deed forward. I’ll keep my eyes open so I can pass on the joy of making a stranger smile. Like this man who bought ice cream for the neighborhood children. Or my mother who accompanied an elderly Italian neighbor to get her first Covid vaccination. In the end, my mom was glad that she went since the woman was visibly nervous and relieved to have someone on hand to help navigate the different kiosks at the vaccination site. “I’m glad I went, it felt good to be useful. She appreciated me being there with her.” Count it as your good deed for the day.