On my birthday, February 17th, I did something different—I visited an old folks’ home. I didn’t know what to expect, but the moment I stepped in, I felt something I hadn’t anticipated: peace. It wasn’t just about giving; it was about connecting, about sharing a moment of warmth with people who have lived through so much.

That day, they all sang for me. A whole group of elderly residents, their voices soft yet full of life, filling the room with something so simple, yet so deeply touching. It was unexpected, and for a moment, I just stood there, in the middle taking it in. I had come to give, but in that moment, I was the one receiving. Love, kindness, and a sense of belonging in a place I had just walked into.

Today, I returned for my second visit. Unlike the first time, where everything felt new, today felt familiar. I recognized faces, and more importantly, I remembered names. It’s strange how something as small as remembering someone’s name can make a difference—it turns strangers into friends.

I spent time with Maria today. We played bingo (my first time!), and while the game itself was fun, the best part was just being there, sitting together, sharing conversation and laughter. There was no rush, no need to fill the silence. Just presence.

What surprises me most about this place is how it doesn’t drain me. Usually, social interactions tire me out, but here, it’s different. Here, I feel at peace. Maybe it’s because there are no expectations—just moments to share, kindness to give, and stories to listen to.

All thanks to Sister Marie Antoinette, who introduced me to this home. If not for her, I wouldn’t have experienced this quiet joy, this feeling of contentment that lingers even after I leave.

I don’t know how often I’ll visit, but I know I’ll keep coming back. Because sometimes, giving love is exactly what the heart needs.