Published on August 23, 2025.
*Note: names are made-up.
As the evening hits, high school volunteers file into the LifeMoves Villa on July 19, carrying trays of food and snack boxes. They scurry from the entrance to the kitchen to set up dinner and the staff bring large plastic spoons to help. The mountains of fried rice, pasta, fruits, salads, and cookie trays await hungry residents of the Villa. Slowly but surely, residents walk down the stairs and come into the kitchen. Their faces fill with anticipation and curiosity about Chinese food. Loading their plates with a variety of dishes, the residents cradle their plates and sit down in the dining area of the Villa. After the last few were served, the volunteers quickly joined the residents to dine together.
When I first walked into the LifeMoves Villa carrying a tray of egg fried rice, I thought my role as a volunteer was simple: serve food the residents wanted, offer a smile, and maybe exchange a few polite words. I didn’t expect to walk away with stories that would resonate with me beyond that evening.
At first, I hesitated to speak with the Villa’s residents. I was afraid of asking questions that sounded rude, rather than curious. It felt safer to stay silent, hand out paper plates, and fill them with food based on requests. But then, a resident of the Villa walked up to us, asking about the Chinese food. It was an invitation for us to chat. I grasped this opportunity to get to know her and began by asking how long she’s been living in this Villa. At first, the conversation was robotic, but as we both got to know each other, it became more natural. She invited us to learn more about her. I started to listen — not just her words, but to her tone, body language, facial expressions, and silence.
Mabel moved into the Villa about two months ago. In her free time, she enjoys solving crossword puzzles in books. Her close friends often gifted books to her, making the hobby incredibly special to her. She’s even tried solving Sudoku puzzles and Wordles. However, she realized that her true passion lies in crossword puzzles. Even when her daughter goes on vacation, she finds herself absorbed into the puzzles for hours. She proudly told me she could finish a crossword puzzle book in one to two hours.
The second lady I spoke with also moved to the Villa about two months ago. Nadia is a great-grandmother of a one-year-old, and her grandchildren visit her often in the Villa. Her phone is near her at all times; reminders and alarms on her phone are frequent, reminding her to take her medications. During the dinner, she often leaves the dining area to take medications for her heart. She tells us later that taking her medications on time is a necessity for her because her heart is only capable of pumping 25% of her blood. During free time in the Villa, her friends are walking in the streets while she visits her granddaughter in the hospital. Her granddaughter was hit by a drunk driver when she was walking near the sidewalk. She’s made continuous visits to the hospital for the past two weeks, where she witnessed the slow recovery of her granddaughter. Nadia spoke of the experience with remarkable calmness and hope, reflecting on both the fragility of life and the strength it takes to hold onto the fraction of hope.
The third lady, Ruth is a victim of cancer, taking medications regularly. She remains optimistic, despite receiving the news of a malignant tumor. She is a Los Gatos High School alumni and participated in the marching band. She was once a dedicated flute player, before she quit to play soccer instead. She eventually graduated from UC Davis majoring in Chemistry and the top of her class.
Everyone who sat down and ate food with me had a deeper story behind them: they carried stories, loss, regret, optimism for the world, and resilience. When I sat down to listen to them tell me about their lives, I found myself brave enough to ask questions to go deeper into the conversation.
By the end of the evening, I wasn’t just serving food. I made connections with people of different backgrounds, and I invited them to take our group photo together. Volunteering taught me to go above serving others with my actions. It didn’t just teach me how others persevered in the face of struggles. I’ve learned to be more accepting of struggles. To let them happen and grow from them. I left the Villa finding a new kind of optimism, understanding that bravery isn’t always about speaking up to one’s own problems, but rather being willing to listen and empathize with someone else’s struggles and stories.
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