I needed an empty box.  That's what led me down the stairs to the creepy basement of the care home. I had been down there hundreds of times for supplies or to the laundry room to search for a resident's lost sweater.

    I never had need of a box. That involved going to the scary part of the basement. What the aides call the haunted part.  Oh, don't get me wrong, there are ghosts down here.  Ghosts of people and their lives lost. Unclaimed clothes, abandoned medical equipment, forlorn wheelchairs collecting dust.

   "What a waste. Most of this stuff is still useful" I said out loud, "I could think of several places that would love to have all this for their patients."

    "So, don't just stand there! Do something, girl. Use your head!"

    "Okay, I'm working on it," I said grabbing a box and heading for the stairs.

                                 ****************************

     I proposed donating the lot to charity. My boss said it was a good idea, everything was just going to waste any ways.  I called several senior organisations.  No luck. Everyone had everything they need. The folks I spoke to took my number and said they would mention it to friends. 

    Months went by, days grew short, then disappeared all together. The long dark winter set in. My project came to a standstill.

     Finally, a break. A note left at the nurses desk in late spring. A name and a number...looking for medical supplies and chairs. I called him in the morning. 

                              ***************************

     Two men stopped by the next morning with a pick up truck.  My boss laughed, looking out the window, "Do they realize how much is down there?" 

     "I told them it was quite a bit." I smiled, opened the door and led them to the basement.                        

     Their eyes lit up like a child at Christmas.

     "This is a gold mine!" said the younger one,"We are going to need a bigger truck!"

     While he made his phone calls, the older man explained what they would do with the goods.

     "We repair anything that needs to be fixed, clean up everything, then we contact groups that are going on medical missions. They let us know what they need. There are several churches and private charities that bring medical equipment all over the world."

     "I have a truck for Friday, and there is a group leaving in two weeks on a mission, they have a shipping container."

                                     ***********************

     Friday was a flurry of activity. We formed a line to pass the items up the stairs and onto the huge delivery truck. Some of the residents watched from the windows, others came outside with their own donations, knitted quilts and hats.

      The last of the lot was loaded. The big door was rolled down and locked. I handed a box to one of the men and asked him to do me a small favour.

      He smiled.

                               **************************

       Later that day, one of the residents asked me what was in the box.

       "Love notes," I replied, "I asked them to put a note on each item shipped out. Just a little hello and it has our address on it in case anyone wants to write back."

       "Brilliant!" she exclaimed.

                                ***********************

       The follow up call made me smile. The truckload was being shipped out to orphanges in Romania and Afghanistan.

        It was a months before I recieved a response to my letters. Some were from volunteer medical staff, saying their load was lighter, the children were adapting and using the chairs and crutches. The ancient IV poles and steam sterilisers were a blessing.  The best was from a young boy.

       "Dear Friends and Poppi, thank you for the wheelchair. My legs are gone from a blast. Now I have wheels, I am now free. I will return home and go to school. I will not be a burden to my grandmother, she is old and cannot carry me. I am doing well. I can get on the chair by myself...."

      Mission accomplished.