Our street has been a construction zone for what seems like years. Well, for several months, at least.

First, they put in new water mains, which required the busting up of the road, the drilling of holes, laying of pipe and, of course, the closing of the street. Our household survived that — with only one water-control issue — and once again we could drive, somewhat bumpily, down our street.

So when Cabbagetowners got the notice this past month that construction workers would be returning to reconstruct our street (sidewalks, pavement and curbs), the announcement was met with little enthusiasm. More disruption, more noisy jackhammers, more time spent trying to get places.

And all of that is true but it hasn’t turned out to be the excruciating experience we all anticipated it would be. The jackhammers still start at 7 a.m. There are days when we can’t get into our driveways and parking spaces and have to scavenge for parking blocks away from home. But the guys doing the construction — headed by a city employee who is the project manager — have been so darn accommodating that it is difficult to resent them.

After they had torn up the sidewalks in front of our house and left a gaping chasm between our cars and our parking spaces behind our house, the workers kindly got some planks and made a bridge for us to drive over.

When there was no getting around parking on the street, they gave those of us without street parking permits a letter to put in the front windows of our cars. The idea was that the city traffic officers would understand why we were parked without a permit and not ticket us. When that didn’t work — my husband and I both got tickets two mornings in a row — the city’s project manager took our tickets and promised to take care of them.

Then there was the guy who parked his car on the street and went away. Rather than call the police and have the vehicle ticketed and towed, they dug around it. When the owner returned there was the car, on its own little island of pavement. The workers built a ramp so the Cabbagetowner could drive out of his predicament.

But the pièce de résistance was garbage day. The garbage truck couldn’t get down our street. Yet we all put our containers out and hoped for the best. And the best happened. The construction workers wrote the house numbers on the boxes and carried all the garbage down to the garbage truck, then returned the empty containers and stacked them neatly in front of our houses.

Of course, the whole process has been a wonderful adventure for our neighbour, Henry, who is four and likes trucks. He has been fascinated by events and has kept a close eye on the goings-on on our street.

The highlight for Henry was the day the big cement trucks arrived to pour the concrete road bed. Cement mixer after cement mixer rolled down our street, dumped its materials into the street, to be spread and smoothed by the workers — all under the watchful eye of Henry.

Henry was so pleased with the final effect that he and his mom made cookies to give the workmen.

So, the reconstruction of Wellesley Street hasn’t been just about new sidewalks and curbs. We have those, too. It is really a story about how good deeds beget good deeds.

And that is a good thing to remember at this time of year — and all year round. Going out of your way for someone has a ripple effect. One small act of kindness can touch many people — and it grows. Go out of your way for someone today.

TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN CHIEF