The door opened easily with the keys.
On the counter was another note:
“This house belonged to my sister. She passed last year. She always wanted children but couldn’t have any. I hope knowing her home is full of life again brings her peace. Take care of it. Take care of the twins. It’s yours now. —M”
I sat down, overwhelmed. The note mentioned twins. For the first time in months, I felt hope. A few days later, I returned to the thrift store to find the woman—Margaret.
The store clerk gave me her address and a note from her saying she hoped I’d come. I found Margaret living alone in a small apartment. She told me she helped because once someone helped her when she had nothing. She put the keys in the washing machine before I bought it, hoping to find someone who needed them more.
Now, six months later, the twins have their own rooms, my mom is recovering in the guest room, and we are slowly rebuilding our lives. Some nights, I sit by the fireplace, listening to the girls laugh, and I remember how close I was to giving up—and how one kind stranger changed everything.
