When I was 18, and pregnant by my boyfriend at that time, I decided I would move to California with him. I was a Syracuse, NY native, born and raised. But I thought it was the right thing to do for the baby I was carrying.
Well, once I was out there, I realized I had made a huge mistake. The climate of our "home" out there was definitely not conducive to raising a new baby. So I called my father, who was broke, to ask for money to help me get home. He was not able to do much, although my best girlfriend did manage to send enough for Greyhound bus tickets to bring me from San Bernardino, CA to Syracuse, NY.
That was sweet in itself. However, there was very little money left over for food. This was a 4-day trip by bus, and I felt sick every day. By the time we had gotten only as far as Las Vegas, I was broke. I never said anything to anyone, but this little old black man started turning up wherever I happened to be. He was on the bus trip himself and I had not really noticed him up until that time. He basically became my guardian angel all the way across the country, from Vegas to Cleveland, OH. He bought me food whenever we stopped, and in retrospect, I don't think I ever did hear him say one word. I did not get to say goodbye to him as we had made an unscheduled stop just outside Cleveland while I was sleeping and when I woke, he was gone. But as far as I'm concerned, that is the absolute sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. :)