What Love Left Behind

In the weeks that followed, we visited Margaret often. She told us stories about the home she used to live in — the one we had moved into just a year earlier. She remembered planting the apple tree in the yard, baking bread on Sundays, and sitting by the window with Max at her feet.

It was as though our lives had quietly intertwined long before we knew it. Margaret’s laughter returned, her eyes brighter each time Buddy curled beside her. And when she passed away peacefully a few weeks later, she left us a note — a simple message of gratitude, and a small envelope hidden in our kitchen drawer. Inside was a modest savings and a wish: “Use this to help others the way you’ve helped me.”

We used part of her gift to start a small fund for rescuing senior dogs, just like Buddy — because every soul deserves a second chance. The rest went toward caring for the home she built with so much love.

Now, every spring, when pink blossoms drift from the old apple tree, Buddy rests beneath it as if remembering a life that came full circle. And in those quiet moments, we understand — that day in the woods wasn’t just about rescue. It was about love finding its way home again.