A true story about soup, presence, and building the kind of home I would live in

This is our story. This is how we got here today.

And if you’re trying to figure out what to do for your mom or dad, you’ll understand why we built this

You should probably know that my husband likes to collect old people.

I know—that sounds weird. Maybe even a little creepy. But stay with me.

What I mean is that he’s an old soul. He treasures elders. He lights up in the presence of someone who’s lived a full life. 

He listens like every story is sacred. He genuinely wants to be around people that others too often overlook.

He sees them.

Me? I’ve always been the clinician—at least in the professional sense. I’ve been an occupational therapist for over 20 years. I’ve worked in hospitals, nursing homes, all the broken-down systems. 

I’ve seen the so-called “golden years” 

Up close—and believe me, they didn’t always look golden. They looked lonely. Rushed. Disconnected. And often, just plain sad.

Oddly enough, while I had the degrees and credentials, it was my husband who always brought all the pieces together.

Whenever someone we loved was sick, he’d be in the kitchen making his grandmother’s chicken soup from Mexico. He was the one tending, nurturing. I had the clinical skills. But he had the instinct.

So when he came to me with this idea—

“What if we created something better? What if we cared for the wisdom holders ourselves?”—

I didn’t exactly jump in. I was hesitant. Not because I didn’t care, but because I did. I knew what it would take. I knew the emotional weight, the sleepless nights, the responsibility.

But one day, we just said yes.

We jumped in with both feet. And it’s been a ride ever since.

What we’ve built together isn’t some cookie-cutter facility. It’s not corporate. It’s not institutional.It’s personal.
It’s messy and beautiful and human.

It’s a home—where care is sacred, and where the small things still matter. Soup. Time. Presence.

This work isn’t easy. I don’t expect it ever will be.

We’ve chosen to see what so many others don’t. We believe aging can still be full of dignity, joy, and connection. That people don’t lose their worth when they need help.

If anything, that’s when they need to be seen the most.

And that’s how we got here.

“Don’t believe the lie that decline is inevitable. The truth is, what most people call ‘the end’—we see as a new beginning.”

If you want a calm voice in a loud world, I’d love to write to you.

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