At 78, holidays had become painfully quiet. That year was no different. My children had plans, my grandchildren were “busy,” and I spent the morning setting a table for one, pretending it didn’t hurt.
I was halfway through reheating leftovers when a knock echoed through my small house. It startled me—I wasn’t expecting anyone.
At the door stood a young woman with a nervous smile and a casserole dish in her hands. She explained she was my new neighbor and had noticed my lights on all day. “I didn’t want you to be alone,” she said softly.
That one knock turned into dinner, laughter, and stories shared late into the evening. She came back the next day. Then again the next week. Soon, her kids started calling me “grandma,” and my house filled with noise I hadn’t heard in years.
My family may have forgotten me that holiday—but life didn’t. Sometimes, the smallest kindness from a stranger can give you exactly what you thought you’d lost forever. ❤️
