Kind People

[Diana]

There was a woman who lived down the street from the house I lived in as a little girl. Her name was Ruth, and the adults in town called her the "old maid."

She had a two-story Victorian house with hardwood floors and old furniture beautifully kept. I used to visit her along with some of the neighborhood children. She had a large sun room that let in much light at the back of her house where we would play—it was our room. Two walls were lined with cupboards on the floor. The cupboards were stuffed with old clothes and random household things for us to play with. Other than that the room was empty. I remember sitting on the blond hardwood floor warmed by the sun, getting into those magical cupboards, feeling safe and happy.

She would sometimes make cookies for us, or popsicles in the summer. She never bothered us or hovered. We could go there at any time and she would welcome us in. Sometimes I went there alone. Her home was a haven of unconditional love. Her gentleness and loving kindness were a port in the storm. She provided a safe, loving environment for the neighborhood children, all of whom had various troubled family situations. She was an angel to us.