Written in neat handwriting were the words:
There was no name. No date. No explanation.
I sat there for a long time, holding that note, replaying those quiet nights in my mind. Perhaps it was left by a staff member whose name I never learned. Perhaps it was written during a moment I no longer remembered. Or perhaps it was something I needed to find only after I had left that place behind.
Whatever its origin, the note stayed with me.
It reminded me that comfort sometimes arrives without asking to be understood. That kindness doesn’t always leave a signature. And that strength can be awakened by the simplest words, spoken — or written — at exactly the right moment.
Sometimes, it isn’t about who offered the encouragement.
It’s about what it helped you become.
