When I started working at the nursing home, I never expected one resident to change my life forever. At the time, I thought I was helping her, but I had no idea she had a plan of her own.

The small  home smelled of lemon polish and old books, and after a year of working there as an orderly, I still found it more welcoming than most places I’d lived. Growing up in foster care teaches you to notice small kindnesses, and that place had plenty of them.

The residents mostly ignored me at first, except for Gloria.

Gloria was 82, sharp as a tack, stubborn, and somehow always made everyone around her smile.

I still found it more welcoming.