Keith briggs
6.6K posts


@dcbrne Plenty time to grow it back before shpw in June mate
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@NotFarLeftAtAll Jesus, what a choice of self-serving politicians, who are only in it for the money
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@vicioushardy Yes. ESPECIALLY if he did a full body cavity search
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Keith briggs retweetledi

Three years ago, I knocked on my neighbor's door to borrow a cup of sugar.
Norma answered in a floral housecoat, one eyebrow raised, and said, "You don't look like the baking type."
She was 86. Sharp as a tack. And she was right — I just wanted an excuse to finally meet her.
What started as five minutes on her doorstep turned into three years of Friday dinners, bad game shows, and the best friendship I never expected to have.
Then last spring, Norma was diagnosed with leukemia.
She was 89. Living alone. And suddenly, the hallway between our two apartments felt like the longest distance in the world.
I didn't think twice. I knocked on her door again — this time with a key to mine.
"You're not a nurse," she told me, crossing her arms.
"No," I said. "I'm your neighbor. Now pack a bag."
Norma moved into my spare room that weekend. For months, I helped her with her medications, drove her to appointments, made her soup she always said needed more salt. I slept with my door open so I'd hear her if she called out in the night.
People kept asking me, "Why are you doing this?"
I never had a good answer. She was my neighbor. She was my friend. She was 89 years old and she deserved to feel loved during the hardest chapter of her life. It wasn't complicated.
Some mornings she'd be sitting at my kitchen table when I came out, already halfway through the crossword, stealing my coffee. Some nights we'd fall asleep on the couch watching old movies she'd seen fifty times and still cried at.
I didn't save her. No one could. But I hope I made her feel like she mattered — because she did. More than she ever knew.
Norma passed away peacefully, in a warm room, with someone holding her hand.
I keep her photo on my kitchen counter, right next to the sugar bowl.
The one I never actually needed.
"I didn't do anything heroic. I just didn't want her to be alone. Anyone would have done the same."
— Chris Salvatore
If this story moved you, share it. The world needs more neighbors like Chris — and more reminders that ordinary kindness is the most extraordinary thing of all. 🤍

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