Walking out of North Adams, Massachusetts, I decided to step into a Subway before heading back to the trail. My body was weary, my clothes damp and cold from the long days of hiking south, and I knew this sandwich would be my last hot meal for a while. I placed my heavy pack down by a table and stepped in line.

That’s when a man noticed my pack and asked if I was hiking the trail. I nodded and told him yes. He asked me how it was going, and I answered honestly—“cold and wet.” We exchanged a few words about my journey before he returned to sit with another gentleman. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

When I reached the cashier, ready to pay for my meal, that same man suddenly stepped forward. “I’ll cover it,” he said. Despite my repeated attempts to insist otherwise, he refused to take no for an answer. Finally, I accepted. We shook hands, exchanged names, and I thanked him deeply. That’s when he looked at me and said two words that changed the conversation completely: “Semper Fi.”

It clicked instantly. He was a Marine. So was I.

We began talking about where we had served and when. Then he asked me if I’d ever heard of Warrior Hike. My face broke into a smile as I told him I had hiked with Warrior Hike back in 2013 on the Appalachian Trail.

His eyes lit up—he told me he was the Quartermaster at the local VFW Post, the very one that had hosted me and the other Warrior Hikers that year. We had met before, years ago, and here we were—reconnected in the most unlikely way. What had seemed like a small act of kindness turned into a reunion rooted in shared service, memory, and brotherhood.

After we said our goodbyes, I sat down with my meal, humbled by the generosity of someone who had once been a stranger but was in fact an old friend. As I unwrapped my sandwich, another story began.

An older woman walked into the restaurant. She looked cold, weary, and burdened, the kind of tired that goes deeper than skin. She stood at the counter ordering for two, and I couldn’t help but think of how she might have been going through her own struggles. Watching her, I felt the urge to do for her what had just been done for me.

I walked up behind her and gently shared the story of how the Marine had just paid for my meal. “I’d like to do the same for you,” I told her.

Her reaction floored me. She nearly collapsed as tears welled in her eyes. “There IS a God!!” she exclaimed. “Man, I really needed this one today!! I can’t even tell you. Thank you. Thank you!!” She wanted to hug me, but instead, I placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m glad I was able to help you today, ma’am.”

I never asked her story. Maybe she was homeless, maybe she was just down on her luck, or maybe she was carrying burdens invisible to the world. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. She was smiling, and her day had changed—just as mine had moments earlier.

As she left with her food—likely meant for a friend, child, or loved one—I returned to my meal, my heart fuller than my stomach. That’s when one of the Subway workers came out from behind the counter. She told me that what I did had made their day as well. “You inspired us,” she said, and I realized the ripple had spread even further than I knew.

We took a picture together—not of the Marine, not of the woman, but of the Subway staff and me. Because this story isn’t about one act. It’s about all of us.

I share this not for praise, but for inspiration. If even a handful of people read this and decide to do something kind for someone else, that’s a handful of days changed. A handful of hearts lifted.

Small acts of kindness add up. They restore your soul. They restore your faith in others. They restore your faith in this world.

So pay it forward. Share your time. Share your food. Share your love. Be the inspiration you want to see. The chain of kindness begins with a single choice to act. And who knows? That choice might just change someone’s day—or their life.

Because it starts with you. It starts with me.