I mailed Reina’s old garments to a woman named Nura, who claimed to have nothing warm for her daughter, and gave them away online. I didn’t think much of it and even paid for my own postage. Three of those garments, meticulously folded, with the remark, “You helped me when I had no one,” returned in a package a year later. I wanted to give back as much as I could. A crocheted duck that had belonged to my grandma and that I had assumed was lost forever was also found within.

The note described how that duck had been a source of solace for Nura and her daughter. When I dialed the number she left, I heard a familiar but worn-out voice. She told me how she ended up at a shelter after fleeing an abusive relationship. She had been rescued by my little box of garments. Through pictures, conversations, and support, that call started a connection that developed into something enduring.

After a while, Reina and I went to visit. The scent of bread and lavender filled Nura’s small apartment, and her daughter and I quickly became friends. We laughed, told stories, and ate together. She eventually found employment, security, and the bravery to go to culinary school. Nura reminded me that kindness goes both ways when she provided money without hesitation after I lost my job.

Our families now travel like extended family. The duck moves between Reina and Maïra’s nightstands as they refer to one another as cousins. What started out as decluttering evolved into a relationship that completely changed our lives. It showed me that little deeds aren’t little at all; they have the power to mend families, open doors, and demonstrate that when love decides to see them, nobody is invisible.