When Vaughn decides to volunteer at a nursing home to improve her college applications, she doesn’t expect to have so much fun. But what happens when an old woman claims to have known Vaughn since childhood? And leaves him a huge… note?
The nursing home smells of lemon-scented cleaner and medication. It’s strangely comforting and a far cry from the sterile hospital smell most people expect.
I’ve been here long enough to feel at home, perhaps even more so than in the foster homes where I spent my childhood.
A young woman in a retirement home | Source: Midjourney
I was only supposed to stay here for a few months to volunteer and improve my college application. Right after school, I wanted to work for a few years to earn enough money to get into college and support myself.
“I understand that you need to work for a while, Vaughn,” Dorothy, the school’s guidance counselor, told me. “But don’t put off college too long. The longer you wait, the longer you’ll only be putting it off.”
I agreed. I’d heard too many stories of people with high aspirations who let life pass them by because they ran out of time.
A teenage girl sits with her guidance counselor | Source: Midjourney
So I worked as a personal assistant for a high-powered mom. It was a stressful job, but she paid me well and I could leave work at 3 p.m. every day.
That’s how I ended up in the nursing home after hours.
That was three years ago. Today, I’m 25, and I still work here most days of the week. And the strangest thing is, I don’t regret it.
A young woman smiling in an office | Source: Midjourney
I don’t regret it. With its creaky floorboards and echoing hallways, this place has become a refuge.
But last week, something happened that made me question almost everything I knew.
It was late Tuesday afternoon, and I was making my usual rounds. Everyone had eaten early and retired to their rooms, ready to rest before bingo night.
The corridor of a retirement home | Source: Midjourney
Room after room, I checked on the residents, adjusted pillows, offered smiles, and listened to the same stories I’d heard a hundred times. Then I walked through Mrs. Coleman’s door. I’d seen her before; she was a charming woman. She was quiet and 90 years old, always sitting by the window, her gaze fixed as if waiting for something.
Or someone.
I hadn’t planned to stop by Mrs. Coleman’s house that day, mainly because she was on the side of the hall that wasn’t my responsibility. But as I walked past her door, she reached out and grabbed my arm with surprising strength.
Close-up of an old woman | Source: Midjourney
“I know you!” she whispered, her eyes sharp.
At first, I assumed it was dementia. It’s not uncommon here. Residents often think I’m their granddaughter or a nurse from years ago.
I smiled, gently removing Mrs. Coleman’s hand from my arm as we shuffled to her chair.
Close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sure you will, Mrs. Coleman,” I said, trying to keep my tone gentle with her. “My name is Vaughn, remember? I’ve worked here for a while. I’ve made you ginger tea several times.”
She smiled.
“I know,” she said. “But that’s not all. I know you. You lived next door to me. You were just a little girl then. Five or six, maybe.”
I froze.
An old woman drinking tea | Source: Midjourney
Next door? It’s not possible. I barely remembered the names of my host families, let alone their neighbors.
Yet, something in his gaze caught my attention.
“Don’t you remember?” she asks, leaning forward in her chair. “You used to come every year for my birthday. You used to sing to me, my sweetheart. You used to sit with me and my grandson, Soren. I will never forget your name or your beautiful eyes.”
Two children playing together | Source: Midjourney
Suddenly, I felt dizzy.
I wanted to shake my head and tell her she must be mistaken. But something disturbed my memory. It was a series of faint, blurry images in my mind. A small kitchen. An old woman’s laughter, the warmth of birthday candles. A chocolate cake. Mints on a coffee table.
I felt anxious.
“I…” I started to say. “I don’t really remember, Mrs. Coleman.”
Her expression softened, as if she expected this answer from me.
A bowl of mints | Source: Midjourney
“You were so young,” she said quietly. “But I never forgot. You were the only one who came. Soren used to play with your siblings, and we invited them all. But you were the only one who came. Every year, it was just you.”
I felt my throat tighten. The unpleasant sting of tears was gathering in the corners of my eyes.
I knelt beside her, my hand still in hers. I felt things I couldn’t understand. Mrs. Coleman reminded me of a part of my life I had completely forgotten.
A little girl and an old woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
How could I have forgotten? How could I have forgotten something so simple and yet so important?
“I felt so lonely,” she continued. “But then you started coming over, and Soren would ask his dad to drop him off more often. And before I knew it, the house was filled with your laughter when the two of you played outside.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”
Mrs. Coleman’s eyes filled with warmth as she looked into mine.
Close-up of an old woman | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t be sorry,” she said softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You were a child. And before I knew it, you were gone. I just assumed you’d moved on to another family. I asked your foster parents where you were, but they couldn’t give me any details.”
“I didn’t know you were so interested in me…” I said.
“Darling, you were just a child. But you saved me, in ways I sometimes don’t even understand.”
Close-up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. All my life, I’d felt like I moved through the world unnoticed. I went from family to family, changing rooms and beds as they became comfortable for me.
But now this woman, this stranger, remembered me.
Me.
And this at a time when I barely remembered myself. And somehow, I had mattered to her.
Close-up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you,” I said. “For remembering me…”
She smiled softly.
“How could I not?” she asked. “I mean, I did for a while. But last night, I dreamed about you as a child. And then I knew for sure. It was you.”
I felt a hundred times better when I left for home that evening. I arrived at my small apartment and made myself a bowl of noodles.
A bowl of noodles on a counter | Source: Midjourney
Everything was different now. Someone knew me. The me before my childhood.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by the buzzing of my phone on my nightstand. Groggy, I grabbed it and squinted at the screen. It was a notification from my bank.
$700,000 had been deposited into my account.
I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. This must be a mistake.
Shocked woman sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney
Who would deposit such a sum into a stranger’s account? My head was spinning as I stared at the screen, wondering who I should call.
The bank? The police? Someone else?
But before I could act, my phone rang again. It was the nursing home.
“Vaughn, can you come earlier?” asks the head nurse. “Ms. Coleman… she’s been taken to the hospital. She wasn’t doing well last night, and she seems to have slipped into a coma. She’ll be monitored closely before returning.”
An older nurse | Source: Midjourney
I barely remember throwing clothes away or driving to work. When I arrived, my head was buzzing with a thousand thoughts.
Mrs. Coleman. Money. Is this a coincidence? What does it all mean?
The staff handed me a small envelope when I arrived at the nursing home.
An envelope on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Mrs. Coleman left this for you, V,” Catherine, a nurse, told me. “She told me to give it to you last night. I’m leaving now; my shift is over.”
Inside was a note written in small, shaky handwriting.
Use this for your dreams, sweetheart. You deserve it.
It was from her. Mrs. Coleman.
Close-up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
I stood there, clutching the note, feeling the weight of her words. She had given me that money. Somehow, she had found a way to make my dreams come true. Now I could go to college. I could become someone. Someone.
It took me a few days to decide what to do. Well, I didn’t enroll in college. I went to the hospital to see Mrs. Coleman, and I was glad I did.
No one else visited her. She remained in a coma, unaware of her surroundings. And on the fifth day of her stay, she died in the middle of the night.
An old woman in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
Ultimately, I didn’t enroll in college. Instead, I walked into the nursing home office and handed them a check for $50,000.
“Use it, Miranda,” I told the manager. “Fix the leaky roof in the dining hall. Renovate the bedrooms. Buy a new television. Let’s make life here better.”
I donated most of the money to orphan charities.
And I kept a good portion of it to put me through nursing school at night. When I graduated, I wanted to work properly at the nursing home. And full-time.
A young woman studying | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Coleman seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
A few days later, as I stood outside his room and watched the sunlight filter through the window, I realized something.
Maybe this was my dream all along.
A smiling woman looking out the window | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you liked this story, here’s another one for you |
A strange woman walked into my nursing home room saying, “I finally found you!”
Life has a way of bringing up the past when you least expect it, and for me, that moment came when a familiar stranger walked into my room and changed everything.
So I lived my life as quietly as possible, or at least that’s what I always thought. My name is Agatha, I’m now over 70, and I spent most of my days getting by. I never had a husband or children, and I didn’t really have a family to speak of.
A smiling old woman sitting on a chair | Source: Midjourney
Read the full story here .
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and all opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the opinions of the author or publisher.
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