No One Remembered My Birthday—Except A Stranger Who Shouldn’t Have Known

The Circle of Kindness

My 32nd birthday came. This time, I took the day off. I baked lemon cookies and carried them to the volunteer station.

There was a new woman there—Graciela. She had just moved, lost her son last year. She liked crosswords and chamomile tea.

We sat together in the garden behind hospice. I told her she wasn’t alone.

She wiped her eyes. I offered her a cookie.

It tasted like sunlight, memory, and something quietly healing.

So if you’re reading this and feeling forgotten—please believe someone is thinking of you. Maybe not loudly, but deeply.

Kindness circles back. Always.