Flood season, a boat that wouldn't take gas money — and the best day of the year

The flood came overnight. By morning the road in front of the house wasn't a road anymore — brown water up to the windowsills, motorbikes sunk to the seat, a car with only its roof showing. The whole hamlet was stuck. He went down to the yard, dragged out his small boat, pulled the cord. The engine caught. It was the only thing in the hamlet still running that morning.

He carried a sick man to the clinic, a pregnant woman, schoolkids hunched over their bags in the bottom of the boat. The fuel was his own; lunch, he skipped. Someone climbed onto the bank, turned around and pressed money into his hand — for the gas, uncle. He pushed it back. Not because he didn't need it; his family needed it badly. But take it, and today becomes a day of running a ferry for hire — and he wanted to keep it a day of helping. Take it home for the kids, he said, and started the engine for the next run.

He got home well after dark, soaked, hungry. His wife stood in the doorway and asked: so, did you earn anything today? It wasn't a cruel question — the house was short, and he hadn't brought back a single đồng all day. He grinned: sure I did. A few dozen thank-yous. She went quiet. Then went and scooped him another bowl of rice.

A house at the far end of the hamlet had been cut off for two days with no rice. He took a sack across. When he reached the bank they thanked him over and over; he just nodded and turned the boat. Not coldness. There was another house across the water still waiting, and thank-yous can wait. Sack in the boat. Throttle open.

Life gives you only a few days when you can really help someone. Spend one of them counting gas money, and you've wasted it.

The water will go down. The money can be earned again. And you — has there been a day in your life when you ran all day without counting?