This morning, I took my guy’s car that spoilt yesterday when I wanted to use it to the mechanic for possible checkup and fixing.

By the time I got there, the mechanic is already working on a dusty old Mercedes parked at the corner of the workshop.

Although the mechanic kept sighing and muttering about one or two at intervals.

Beside the car stood an elderly man, dressed in simple clothes, his face lined with years of experience.

He wasn’t impatient or fussy, just quietly watching as the mechanic worked.

Not long after I have sat down to wait for my turn, a sleek SUV pulled into the workshop.

A young man in a well tailored, well starched senator wear stepped out, looking slightly out of place amidst the grime and oil.

His eyes scanned the workshop before landing on the elderly man.

“Papa!” the young man called out, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

The older man turned, visibly startled. “Ah, Chuka? What are you doing here?”

“I went to the house, and Mama said you were here,” Chuka replied, walking quickly to his side. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

They embraced, the kind of hug that speaks volumes: warmth, respect, and deep gratitude all rolled into one.

“I’ve missed you, Papa,” the young man said, stepping back to look at the older man. “I heard you were fixing the car, so I thought I’d come and see you myself.”

The elderly man chuckled, gesturing toward the old Mercedes.

“This one has seen better days, but it’s still moving. Just like me.”

As they spoke, I overheard snippets of their conversation.

The older man had been Chuka’s secondary school teacher, a strict but fair disciplinarian who had always pushed him to excel.

“You told me I could achieve more than I ever imagined,” Chuka said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I did. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

The mechanic interrupted briefly, announcing he needed a spanner and Chuka immediately picked the needed size and handed it over to the mechanic.. “Let me do this for you, Papa,” he said.

He (chuka) asked the mechanic to call his account details so he could pay him.

He then dipped his hand in his Senator side pocket and brought out a huge envelope: “Papa, this is for you,” he said, slipping the envelope into his hand.

The elderly man tried to refuse, but Chuka insisted. “This is just a token of my gratitude,” he said. “For everything you have done for me. For believing in me when no one else did.”

The older man nodded, his eyes misty. “It’s enough for me that you remembered me, Chuka. That you came here.”

As I watched their exchange, I felt a wave of emotion.

How often do we take the time to appreciate those who have shaped our paths, even in the smallest ways?

Driving away from the workshop, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsung heroes in our lives: teachers, mentors, parents, who sow seeds they may never see bloom.

Sometimes, all it takes is a simple gesture to let them know their work was not in vain.

Remember, gratitude isn’t just about saying thank you; it’s about showing it in action, big or small.

Your Brother + Friend