
Years ago, I moved back to my home state to rebuild my life. So, after several years, I reconnected with a local former colleague on social media. She told me I could stay with her over the weekend until my new apartment was ready the following Monday.
I planned to lay low and stay out of her way, since she was a single mother raising three young children, and I slept on the lower bunk bed. Despite tending to the kids, she kept them busy, served me cookies and cold milk, and sat with me to talk. Having someone to vent to at that time was more than cathartic.
Early Monday morning, she handed me a bundle of freshly washed and folded clothes that she’d taken the liberty of washing without me knowing. I felt so cared for. At the time, I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d felt that way.



