And there she was.
There were people everywhere.
She sat in the same chair, but without the mountain of blankets. Two little kids sat on the rug at her feet, and one of them held up a lopsided strip of knitting with a look of deep frustration.
“Show me again,” the little girl said. “I keep messing up this loop.”
The woman laughed. “You’re rushing. Slow hands. Watch.”
For a second, I just stood there with the pizza in my hands like an idiot, taking it all in.
Then one of the men walked over.
The woman laughed.
“Listen… I’m sorry. About what I said that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. That’s on us.”
A woman from the kitchen called out, “We all missed it.”
No one argued with her or made excuses.
The older woman looked over then, saw me, and her whole face changed.
“It’s you,” she said, smiling widely. “I’m so glad you came. Come here.”
