Counting my Blessings: My encounter with a kind stranger

Some days give you exactly what you expect. And some days surprise you quietly, in the most ordinary places. A few days ago, in the morning, it was at a gate.

I drove to a nearby adventure park. I needed trees. Air. Space.

It cost me R60 at the entrance.

I reached for my phone to tap and pay… and realised my virtual banking card wasn’t loaded yet. New phone. Rookie error. I hadn’t brought a bag. No cash. No cards.

I sighed and started to reverse.

The attendant leaned toward my window and said, “It’s okay. You can go in.”

He slipped a wristband onto my arm as if it were nothing. It wasn’t nothing.

I followed the green trail, an easy 5km loop. I’ve ridden my mountain bike there before, but lately it’s just been walking. Doctor’s orders.

Life lately…

A month ago, a virus flattened me. A fever that sent me to ER. The kind that doesn’t just knock on the door, it kicks it in. I recovered from the infection, yes, but recovery has been slow and unpredictable. Add a few other health concerns into the mix, and it’s been a season.

I’ve been training for Comrades for months. I qualified. I was feeling fit and strong. Losing weeks of training and not knowing when I can run again has been one of the harder parts. The possibility of not lining up at the start is quietly heartbreaking. But right now, the goal is simple: get properly better.

So I walked.

Cloud cover softened the day, the sun occasionally breaking through and lighting up the landscape. Green rolled out in every direction. Wooden bridges crossed small streams that whispered beneath them. Some stretches were shady and cool under the trees, others wide and open where the path zigzagged into the distance.

Birdsong stitched the silence together. Bright flashes of yellow and orange darted between branches. Thousands of green locusts scattered at my feet like confetti. Wildflowers interrupted the grass in soft bursts of colour. The occasional butterfly drifted past.

There was the sound of water. The sound of birds. The sound of my own footsteps on gravel.

And somewhere along the way, my shoulders dropped. I breathed.

Maybe it was tranquility. Maybe it was endorphins. Maybe it was both.

After 6km, I made my way back to the gate. I thanked the attendant and asked his name.

“Blessing,” he said.

I smiled all the way home.

I stopped at a nearby shopping centre, withdrew cash, and picked up two boerie rolls and some cold drinks. Then I drove back to the park.

Blessing was still at the gate.

I paid him the entry fee and handed him the lunch.

The smile that spread across his face was radiant. The kind that begins in the eyes and takes over everything else. For a moment, the world felt very simple.

Then I drove away.

It’s true what they say. Count your blessings.

I met one. A real one. Standing quietly at a gate. And I was reminded that they are everywhere, if you’re willing to see them.