A call for help can emerge in unassuming spaces. As three elderly gentlemen entered, I didn’t predict the nursing home activity hall to be one of them. An earnest volunteer, I ran to greet them, my eyes catching on one sitting in a wheelchair. “My…name…is…David!” he stuttered, unprompted. “Hello David, I’m Carly.” I warmly replied. “Are you ready to go win some bingo?” He nodded eagerly in response as I pushed his wheelchair over to the table with the others. The players were set, boards had been selected, and tiles were locked on the free space. It was time to begin the game. “B5.” He didn’t even look up. I’m not loud enough. “C10!” THAT was definitely too loud…Oh no—is he adjusting his hearing aid? “D12.” Am I going too fast? Pausing too long? “E2.” Why’d I choose Bingo again? Numbers passed in a monotonous cadence as my panicked thoughts continued to escalate. My gaze happened upon David, his uncovered board and unplayed tiles instantly pausing my spiraling inner dialogue. Hands quivering with effort, and eyes intensely focused, it appeared as if he were trying to move the tiles with some secret telekinetic power. However, as the minutes passed, no such superpower manifested, only his growing expression of frustration. David needs help. Acting on instinct, I gently brought my chair closer to his. I began reaching for his tile, then paused. But does he want my help? An image of my little brother squirming on the living room floor, hands flailing in upset at the broken toy truck beside him, arrived vividly in my mind. Despite an early autism diagnosis and endless therapy, asking for help remained a colossal challenge for him. As his older sister, it became a habit of mine to pick up on his cues. Whether it was a broken truck or a spilled water bottle, I learned how to balance problem solving with support, providing the assistance necessary for him to create a solution. This acquired awareness was a gift, one I could utilize in best supporting David. ”C3.” Within the game’s natural rhythm, numbers brought on new purpose as I began to scan David’s board, celebrating with him each time we guided a tile onto the board. My previous worries began to vanish as I watched his face light up with every move. “B5.” David’s eyes followed mine to the single uncovered space. Slowly guiding his hand to place that final tile, I beamed at him with pride. “David, you did it.” Arms limply raised in victory, he triumphantly shouted, “I won!” The clapping of the other gentlemen meagerly echoed in the room, but seeing David’s face, you’d think it was an encore applause at a Broadway show. Many bingo rounds since, this simple, unexpected experience has brought me clarity as I’ve sought to slide tiles of my own story into place. Recognizing need in the quiet moments— fixing a truck with my little brother, celebrating a bingo win with an elderly gentleman— has propelled me into my community in a way that once felt uncomfortable, but has ultimately proved transformative. Complimented by a life-long fascination with language and culture, my commitment to helping others become self-reliant has turned my future aspirations towards international development. I eagerly pursue the opportunity to work with communities, previously marred by political instability or conflict, to develop the resources and infrastructure necessary for them to live in dignity. Like David’s story, calls for help can emerge from anywhere, and I can’t wait to see where the journey to answer them takes me.