These days, when I ask my children to come with me on road trips, they think I’m looking for a buddy so I can share the driving load. At 21 and 17, they have every right to think what they want. But what parent doesn’t want to stay attached to the hip of their child, no matter how old they get?

Every summer, we love exploring cities in America as much as we can. When our children were little, we would drive to Destin, Hilton Head, or Tampa and spend a weekend away together.

The detours we literally take for gas, coffee, or food off the side of highways have shown me a side of America that I rarely encounter in my daily life. I work in technology, where my daily challenge is convincing my corporate leadership that I’m doing everything possible to help our teams embrace AI in their day-to-day work.

In that world, I never stop to think about how other people are making a living, how the infrastructure around us keeps functioning, or how the vast network of supply and demand for goods and services quietly sustains life across America. A recent road trip reminded me that, in their own ways, people everywhere are trying their best to make life a little more sustainable for one another.

One morning recently, we left at 3 a.m. for Cary, North Carolina, to visit family. After several hours on the road, we pulled into a Love’s truck stop for coffee and a quick break. I don’t want to get a particular cashier into trouble, so I won’t mention exactly where we stopped.

My parents, who are visiting us from India, got out with me and joined the pursuit of caffeine. Inside the giant gas station, at the coffee bar, a woman with the most gorgeous Southern accent smiled and volunteered, “If y’all want cappuccino, I have a recommendation.”

I turned to my mother and asked if she wanted to try a cappuccino. “Sure,” she said gently looking at both of us and smiling shyly.

The woman enthusiastically recommended the mocha cappuccino and even reached over to press the button so we could start filling our cups.

After thanking her, I headed toward the area with the lids. As I picked one up, a gentleman standing nearby gently waved his finger and pointed me toward a different section. The other lids, he explained without saying a word, were the ones I should be using for hot drinks. 

I was already smiling to myself about the kindness of strangers as I approached the register.

The young woman at the counter looked at my parents and me and said, “Y’all know how to make spice. I used to work for an Indian family, and the lady there would make spicy rice. My boyfriend couldn’t eat it, but lucky for me, I ate it all.”

As I checked out the cappuccino, I asked if I could get an empty cup as well and told her I was happy to pay for it. As I retrieved the extra cup, she ran up my purchase. The total showed 51 cents. Confused, I held both the cups and asked her if she was sure the amount was correct. She smiled at me, and said, “Go on,” and I realized she was not going to charge me the full amount for what I owed her.

As we walked out to our car, my parents were thoroughly amused by these unexpected conversations.

The kindness continued throughout our trip. We stayed at an Airbnb where the owner’s father and aunt had lovingly written messages inside books they had gifted him over the years. Their handwritten notes reminded me that love can be tangible in the most unexpected ways. I’ve never met these people, yet, here I was reading these lines and feeling the love and the tender affection between two people.

One evening, I looked up from my laptop and found myself reading the poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann hanging from the wall in one of the rooms.

“You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.”

The timeless nature of this poem written over 100 years ago feels so relevant even now. It reminds us that every person occupies a small but meaningful place in the larger story of humanity, and that many of our most important encounters are brief, ordinary, and easy to overlook.

Poem Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

As I drove home, I thought about the woman who recommended the cappucino, the gentleman who saved me from spilling hot cappuccino on myself, the cashier reminiscing about spicy rice, the family whose handwritten notes filled a stranger’s bookshelf, and the countless people whose work keeps our roads, stores, gas stations, and communities running.

We are all here because it is our right to be here. And perhaps our greatest responsibility is to make life a little easier, a little kinder, and a little more sustainable for one another while we are.

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The Indian American Life