Every week, I see hundreds of people—at the grocery store, the gas station, the coffee shop, in the drive-thru line at the bank, or while standing behind someone who’s just discovered how self-checkout works or really hasn’t figured it out and needs some help (but that’s a whole other blog post).

And not a single one of those people is wearing a sign that says:

I’m grieving.

I’m anxious.

I’m afraid.

I’m so tired my coffee needs coffee.

But those signs are there—just invisible. Tucked behind tired eyes, forced smiles, and the “I’m fine” that’s code for “I’m about two seconds from crying in a Walmart aisle.”

Let’s be honest—we’re all just a dropped taco away from a complete breakdown.

That’s why I try, whenever I can, to be kind. Even better, kind with a sense of humor. Because let’s face it, some days, my witty comment about how my bra has finally concluded that its support it more of a just a suggestion might be the only smile that they get today. (Besides the joy of finding a cart that doesn’t squeak or track sideways.)

I used to think I had to fix things to help people. Now I know sometimes the best I can do is make them laugh for five seconds… or smile for three. That counts. That matters. Especially in a world where everyone’s doing their best just to show up in semi-clean clothes, with combed hair and matching shoes.

So, I offer smiles like free samples, hand out compliments like coupons, and if the mood strikes, I throw in a ridiculous joke about aging, gravity, or the general betrayal of elastic waistbands in my underwear. Or dating in my 60’s or swimsuit shopping.

Kindness isn’t always grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just making eye contact. Holding the door. Letting someone cut in line because they look like they’ve just survived battle or toddlers. Same thing.

We don’t always know what people are going through. But we can be sure they’re going through something.

And if I can lighten that load, even just a little, then that’s a good day. That’s a win.