There was no name on it.
Just a small note tucked underneath.
I opened it slowly.
“I’m sorry I took your flag. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I stared at the words, completely confused.
Then I read the rest.
“My husband passed away last year. He used to put up the same flag every morning. I saw yours from my window and, for a moment, it felt like he was still here.”
I had to sit down.
The note continued:
“I took it because I wanted one more reminder of him. I know that wasn’t right. Please use this money to buy another one. And if you ever see an older woman sitting by the window across the street, please know that your flag meant more to me than you could possibly understand.”
I looked across the street.
There she was.
Sitting quietly by the window.
I walked over.
She opened the door before I even knocked.
Neither of us said much.
She simply handed me the flag.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I told her she didn’t have to be.
Then I did something I never expected to do when I moved into that neighborhood.
I hugged my neighbor.
The next morning, I put the flag back up.
But this time, I added something beside it.
A second flag.
One for me.
And one for the person she had lost.
Sometimes, we think we know why people do the things they do.
But we rarely know the whole story.
And sometimes, the thing we think has been taken from us…
is actually an opportunity to understand someone else.
Maybe that $20 wasn’t payment for a flag after all.
Maybe it was the beginning of a friendship.