I was cleaning out old things and noticed something faint on the back of the note—my name. In the same handwriting. I had never met that woman before… at least, I didn’t think I had. One day, while visiting my mom, I mentioned it. Told her about the $20, the note, the name. She went quiet. Then smiled. “That was Mrs. Langston,” she said. “She used to live down the street when you were little. She was going through a hard time once,
and I helped her when no one else would. Looks like she remembered—and passed it on.” I still carry that note. Not just as a reminder of my strength, but of how kindness ripples. What you give comes back in ways you’d never expect.
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