Then—a knock.
It was a young woman. Nervous, holding a phone. “Are you Mr. L?” she asked. “I’m Eliot’s daughter. Nora.”
I was speechless.
She found my number on her dad’s phone, saw the message, and decided to come. She brought a turkey and mustard sandwich—my favorite.
We sat at my crate-table and shared the cake. She asked about her dad’s childhood, my old garden, and why we stopped talking. I told her. Pride builds walls, I said. She understood.
Before she left, she asked if she could visit again. I told her she’d better.
The room felt warmer.
The next morning, a message from Eliot: Is she okay?
I replied: She’s wonderful.
A few days later, another knock. It was Eliot. He looked unsure. “I wasn’t sure you’d open the door,” he said.
“Neither was I,” I replied. But I did.
We didn’t fix everything. But we started something.
If you’ve been holding back, maybe today’s the day to reach out. Sometimes, love returns when we least expect it—in a knock, a text, or someone new who remembers what matters.
