Some things are automatic. 

Flicking a turn signal to go right. Kissing a child as they skip off to meet the school bus. Blowing on your husband’s hot coffee before he takes that first life-giving sip. Assisting an elderly neighbor as she struggles to get her groceries to the second set of steps. Dropping off a few bags of clothes to the nearest church, or a box of cans to to local food bank. Hugging your Mom.

Be automatic.

I discovered this rusty piece of history in the back alley behind the local courthouse of West Chester, PA.



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