When I first started working at the nursing home, I never imagined that one resident would change the course of my life. Back then, I believed I was the one helping her. I had no idea she had been quietly helping me, too.
The nursing home was small, always carrying the scent of lemon cleaner, warm tea, and old paperbacks. After a year there as an orderly, it had begun to feel more like home than most places I had lived.
Growing up in foster care teaches you to recognize kindness in tiny pieces.
And that place had plenty of them.
Most of the residents barely noticed me at first.
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