Kind-Hearted

Keys unlock a drawer. Sliding open the inside decorated with calculator after calculator, electronic after electronic.

Now who would have so many? Why would someone spend that amount of money?

Well, for you to know, that is the Lost and Found at Mason High School. That’s where my iPod would’ve ended up, if it was not for a kind-hearted custodian.

He could’ve just continued on with his job, ignoring those around him. Cleaning the school and placing all lost possessions in a pile. It’s not his job to help someone if they are lost or looking for someone, or something. With Mason cutting down custodians from 80 throughout the school district to 40, you’d think a person would disregard the fact that an adult was wondering around campus. Yet he stopped, asking if help was needed.

I reached inside my bag to entertain myself with music on the ride home. But when my hand grasped nothing, my heart dropped. It wasn’t there. My iPod wasn’t there. Stomach tied in knots, I rearranged all the items in my bag, praying, hoping that I overlooked the small item. To my dismay, I rode home with the chatter of the bus filling my ears; not music.

As the minutes passed by, thoughts accumulated of the important items and information my iPod held. Interviews. Book ideas. Song lyrics. Piano excerpts. Inspirational quotes. Everything that impacted me daily.

But really, why would a custodian help? They are downgraded, overlooked, and stereotyped. Honestly, though, why does society think they can forget about these people?

It’s a job, just like a teacher, principal, or a counselor. They are people just as you and I are. They have emotions.

I knew my iPod was at the school with the on and off connection of the internet, but when pinpointed the electronic couldn’t be found. And because the school is contracted to two different cleaning companies, Z-pod, where my last class of the day is, was not part of the custodial group who my mother ran into.

Walking around to trash cans, outside, checking empty hallways, the custodian and my mother searched throughout the school. It was only when running into a custodian  of the other group that the two had permission to comb through the halls of Z.

Yet, it wasn’t there either, where they found my possession. It had been collected with other misplaced items in the arms of yet another worker. Books upon books stacked with calculators and phones, the goldenrod case was unmistakably noticeable within the pile. Black headphones still wrapped around the silicon, not perfectly, but well enough.

I couldn’t have been more grateful. My heart goes out in thanks to those who helped. To those who were persistent enough not to let hope fade.

To those who are overlooked in everyday life. You have meaning. You are the kind-hearted.

With a smile, I say thank you. Thank you. Thank you because I take things for granted. I made myself realize the dependence of objects, but you’ve made me realize that one small deed can go a long way.

:D