My mother was a nurse. She left at 5:45 a. m, so I had to wake myself up, fix breakfast, and walk to the 7:30 a.m. bus. I hated being left home alone in the1 , but I especially hated having to take the bus. Mom worked the day shift so she could pick me up after school.
One day, as we walked to our car, I saw an old man walking towards us. He2 broke into a wide smile, but I didn't know him.
"Leigh! Leigh!" he said, 3 my mother's name.
"Hello," she answered. "How are you feeling?"
"Couldn't be better! Thanks. Now who is this lovely young person?" he asked4 .
"This is my daughter," Mom replied, looking over to me."Jenny, can you say hello?"
I looked at him and smiled, unsure of my5 .
"Well, it is very nice to meet you. I hope you know how lucky you are!" he said.
I looked at him in6 as I had no idea what he was talking about and I didn't feel lucky at all.
"You have the most wonderful, caring and lovely mother," he said. "When I was in hospital last month she took the best care of me. She made every day better. Every day. In fact, young7 I shall never forget her."
I watched this stranger's joy in my mom. He kept thanking her and thanking her.
Right then I suddenly8 what it meant for my mom to be a nurse. She was caring for, serving, and loving those strangers, often during some of the9 times in their lives.
It wasn't the last time I witnessed someone thanking Mom or10 her on her bedside manner, but it was the first time I understood why I stood at the bus stop every morning.
