When the small apartment I had been renting was put on the market, I knew it was time to move on. I packed my things, took one last look around, and spent hours cleaning every corner before I locked the door behind me. It felt like the right way to say goodbye to the place that had held so much of my life.
The next morning, my phone rang. It was the landlady.
For a moment, my heart skipped — I wondered if something had been overlooked or damaged.
She thanked me, not once, but several times, for how carefully I had left the apartment. Then, almost hesitantly, she asked, “How are you so thoughtful and respectful when most people would have walked away without a second glance?”
Her question held genuine emotion, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she had found.
I told her, with a small laugh, that I was raised to leave a place better than I found it. That simple lesson has stayed with me all my life. The apartment wasn’t just a rental to me — it was a safe space at a time when I needed one. It sheltered me when I moved for work, when I didn’t know a single person in the city, and when everything around me felt uncertain. Cleaning it wasn’t a task; it was a quiet expression of gratitude. Continue reading…
