I will never forget that morning. After a long night shift at the pharmacy, exhausted and barely keeping my eyes open, I took my seven-month-old daughter, Willow, to the laundromat. She slept quietly against my chest as I loaded the machine, my arms heavy and my mind foggy from lack of sleep. I sat down for what I thought would be just a moment. The steady hum of the washers, the warmth of Willow’s little body, and the quiet room pulled me into a deep, unexpected sleep.
When I woke, sunlight streamed through the window. For a moment, I felt confused — then I saw it. My laundry had been neatly folded, and inside the machine sat baby formula, wipes, diapers, a soft blanket, and a stuffed elephant. On top was a note: “For you and your little girl. — J.” My breath caught. Someone had noticed the tired mother quietly doing her best. Someone had cared without asking for anything in return. Holding Willow closer, I felt tears fill my eyes — not from sadness, but from relief and gratitude.
