I LET A HOMELESS WOMAN STAY IN MY GARAGE—TWO DAYS LATER, I OPENED THE DOOR AND SAID, “OH GOD… WHAT IS THIS?!”
It was raining the night I met her. An older woman sat beneath a streetlamp, soaked and shivering. Her clothes clung to her frail frame, but her eyes were striking—clear and calm, like my mother’s had been. My mother passed away last year. Maybe that’s why I stopped. “Why not go to a shelter?” I…