Today when I arrived at the Birch Street Nursing Home, I was surprised to see that Mrs. Patterson was not seated in her usual spot by the window of the activity room. I immediately went upstairs to check her room, worried that she might once again have gone outside to hunt for her missing brooch. And there she was, seated on her bed, and wearing the replacement brooch that I had made for her in art class. It was a bright beginning to a pleasant day at the Birch Street Nursing Home.
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