Last Saturday, in the quiet of my VCC apartment, I heard a knock and called, “Come in,” wondering what new scheme the staff had for my well being. In came a small troop of Cub Scouts, uniformed and carrying flowers tied to a handmade card, reading, “Happy Grandparents’ day! Love, Cub Scout Pack 275,” with a drawing of a person in bed. (I guess that was supposed to be me.) They each told me their name, and we shared a moment of mutual thanks before they trooped on down the hall, and I put the flowers in a vase.
They still reminded me of many acts of kindness in my life.
— Myrla Dean