I’ve been a construction worker for over twenty years. It’s honest work—hard, sweaty, and sometimes thankless. My kids see me come home covered in dust and cement, tired to the bone, and they don’t think much of it. To them, I’m just another guy in a hard hat. Nothing special. But for a dozen kids in a hospital across the street, I became something more.
It all started about a month ago when my team was hired to work on a construction site in the city. It was a tall building, still in its early stages, surrounded by scaffolding. My job had me working high up, where I had a view of the surrounding buildings. It was during one of my lunch breaks, standing on the edge of the scaffold, that I noticed the waving.
