“I saw the email,” I said quietly.
“What does it say, Mom?” my daughter asked.
“It’s about an incident downstairs,” I replied.
“But you only helped someone,” my son said.
“Yes, but it feels like more than that.”
“Are you scared?”
“A little,” I admitted.

The next day:
“Ma’am, it’s me,” the man said.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Thanks to you.”
“The jacket… keep it.”
“No. I found help.”
“Did you know Nathan?”
“Yes. He helped me once.”

That evening:
“Do you see, Mom?” my daughter said.
“Kindness comes back,” my son added.
“Yes,” I smiled, “it lives on.”