The Cookie Story

June 2, 2020.

Was a strange time — for me, for everyone.

We’d all been in lockdown for months, not knowing if or when we’d be allowed out again.
I’d had enough.
I needed air.
So I decided to take Charlie out for a game of football.

It was a strange moment in history.
Just days before, George Floyd had been killed.
The footage spread like wildfire.
Black Lives Matter protests were igniting everywhere.
And we were still technically in lockdown… well, kind of.

Shops were still shut. Some places were reopening.
But you could feel the tension in the air.
Like something was about to snap.

I remember walking through Reading town a few days earlier to grab something from the shops.
It was completely dead, no one around.
Except one guy.
Walking up and down the high street…
Holding a sign that said:
“End lockdown.”

The George Floyd story hit different.
Normally, stories like that get swept under the carpet.
But this time?

Everyone was watching.
Because for once, no one had anywhere else to go.

Me?

Black man.
My partner’s white.
Charlie, who I consider a son in every way.

Yeah… that time brought up a lot.
Not just for me, for everyone.
It wasn’t just about race.
It was about humanity.

Who are we becoming?

A few days later, Dave Chappelle dropped his 8:46 special.
He said what most people were feeling but didn’t know how to say.
That video now has over 35 million views.
But before that dropped…
I had my own little moment.

So back to June 2nd.

I took Charlie out for a kickabout.

There’s a local cage football pitch about 10 minutes from our flat,
Tucked behind an estate, past this tiny bridge on Gas Works Road.

One way in. One way out.
Concrete ground. Steel fences.
Old school, street football.

Game on.

I went 6–0 up.
Feeling like prime Carlton Palmer.
Then reality hit.

I’m gasping.
Taking deep breaths. Regretting every lockdown takeaway.

Charlie starts coming back. 6–5.
I’m sweating out all the Deliveroo I’d eaten over the past three months.

7–6. 8–7.
I scrape it 9–8.

Charlie’s buzzing: “Again, again?”

I try to play it off:
“You’re not ready.”

Truth is: I barely survived.
I needed out.
Got away with it. Just.

On the way back, the streets were silent.
No cars. No people.
That weird lockdown emptiness.

Felt like we were walking through the set of I Am Legend.

Then….out of nowhere….. a car appeared.
A grey-blue Rover.

It slowed down.
Then stopped.
Right. Next. To us.

I clocked it.
Didn’t feel right.

Then this energetic white woman jumps out the driver’s seat.
Full of life.

She walks straight up to me and Charlie.

And I’m thinking:

“Well… at least it’s not a drive-by.”

She beams and says:

“I just want to say…….we appreciate you. You’re amazing.”

Huh?

Before I can respond, she opens the back door…
Pulls out a white bag…
And hands it to me.

“Here’s a token of appreciation.”

Then she hops back into the car.
And drives off.

Me and Charlie just stood there.
Confused.
Quiet.

Charlie looks up at me and goes:

“What the hell was that about?”

😂

I look in the bag.

Cookies.
Actual, homemade cookies.

I’m watching the car disappear into the distance.
Still holding the bag.

We walk back to the flat.
Told my partner.

She looks at me and goes:

“You’re not gonna eat that are you? What if it’s poisoned??”

I looked at the cookie.
Looked back at her.
Then took a bite.

And let me tell you something…

Those were the best damn cookies I’ve ever had.

Real life picture of the bag of the cookies.

What’s This Got to Do with Evomone?

Everything.

That woman showed me something that day.

She didn’t have the words.
She didn’t know what to say.
She didn’t know what to do.

But she had cookies.
And that was enough.

That was her gift.

And her gift showed me what I needed to do.

That one act…….
So random. So selfless. So pure…..you couldn’t make this up.
Was more powerful than money.
More powerful than advice.
More powerful than help.

It reminded me:
You don’t need a big solution to change something.
You just need the right energy behind a small one.

That one moment has shaped my thoughts for the last five years.

I haven’t forgotten it.

Because I knew right then.

There was no turning back.

I got the message.

Evomone is my way of saying thank you… for the cookies.

This is our gift to you now. (Receive the gift)