It started with a small favor. Lily waited alone for the bus every morning while her mom worked early shifts. At first, I just waved. Then I walked her down. Soon, she was knocking on my door daily.
One morning, she asked me to help her “look extra fancy” for her first real day of school. After I took her photo, I noticed a small sign in the wreath her mom had hung on my door: “Family.”
I left the picture and a note for her mom—You two make mornings better. The next day, banana bread appeared on my porch.
From then on, we shared more—coffee chats, repairs, laughter. When Ana fainted one day and was late getting home, I stayed with Lily. That’s when things really changed.
As Ana faced health issues, I helped with appointments, Lily’s care, and whatever they needed. Eventually, Lily started calling me “Uncle Ben.”
One day, Ana gave me a drawing: the three of us, under a sun, labeled “My Family.”
Now, every first day of school, we take a new photo together—me, Ana, and Lily, under that same wreath.
I moved here for quiet. Instead, I found something better: love, connection—and a family I never saw coming.
