Without thinking, something in my heart pushed me toward her. I offered her my warm coat and the food I had just bought, expecting nothing in return—only hoping she might feel seen. I even left her my address in case she ever needed help, though I doubted she would use it. That evening, I video-called my daughter, pretending I wasn’t still thinking about the woman under that tree.
Two years passed. Then, on another Thanksgiving, my doorbell rang. When I opened it, the same woman stood there—clean, healthy, and smiling—holding a small black backpack. She introduced herself as Charlotte and explained that my simple kindness had given her the strength to seek help during one of the hardest moments of her life.
