Volunteers filled a kitchen cabinet to overflowing. Cans of sweet corn, green beans and peaches were stacked up four cans high. On the counter were a loaf of bread, platter of rolls, milk, eggs and cheese.
The apartment’s resident just watched. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest, tears streaked her face, and her bottom lip quivered as the food was unloaded in front of her.
“I hope you know the good you do,” she said, choking slightly on the words. “I have no idea where I’m going to put all of this. But that’s a good problem to have.”