For Ten Years I Drained My Savings to Rescue My Three Grown Children — Then I Woke From Surgery to Learn They’d Filed a Court Petition, While I Was on the Operating Table, Citing Every Loan I Ever Gave Them as Proof I’d Lost My Mind

But sitting across from Harrison, I understood it differently.

Kindness is not only its own reward.

Kindness is a seed, and the strange thing about seeds is that you almost never get to watch them grow.

You put one in the ground — a fed child, a kind word, a lie told to protect someone’s pride — and then you walk away and forget it, because your life is full and the ground is dark and nothing seems to happen.

And meanwhile, underground, out of your sight, the thing takes root.