Dear Mr. Delgado, I should have written this decades ago.
I was twenty-two, fresh off the bus from college, and I thought I knew everything. You were sweeping the hallway when I snapped at you for being in my way.
You just nodded and stepped aside. I saw the hurt in your eyes but I was too young to apologize.
That jar of buttons on your cart caught my eye. You told me you collected them for the kids who lost one off their coat. I laughed under my breath.
Today I went back to the old school. They're tearing it down next month. Your jar was still there in the boiler room, untouched.
I sat on the floor and sorted every last button by color. No one else ever did.
Mr. Delgado, I am so sorry. I was a fool who didn't see the kindness right in front of me. You taught me more than any degree ever did.