CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KAYLA
The holidays used to bring on bouts of sadness until I started volunteering. Now, I spend every Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen serving others turkey and cornbread dressing. I usually help Delores and the other volunteers prepare a Thanksgiving dinner for hundreds of people the day before. It’s become my tradition, one I look forward to every year.
As I drive across town, I stop at Starbucks first for my favorite holiday drink—Pumpkin Spice latte. When the barista hands me that bright red holiday cup, I almost burst at the seams with excitement. Taking that first sip brings an instant smile to my face. It tastes like happiness—something I’ve been struggling to find lately.
By the time I arrive, I’ve finished my drink and am full of energy. When I walk in with a
