I retired at seventy, bought a cake, and returned home to celebrate with my family. I found my suitcases on the porch and the front door locked. Something was definitely wrong.
I worked at that clinic for thirty-eight years. Faces changed, management came and went. Even the hospital’s name changed once or twice. But I stayed.
Not because I had to. Because who would do it if not me?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At home, I had my crew: my son Thomas, his wife Delia, and two grandchildren, Ben and Lora. We all lived under one roof. Under my roof.
But I never treated it as a favor.
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