My Neighbor’s Nanny
I help a girl in need and get rewarded
I met Sofia when my neighbor’s five-year-old son, Jackson, yelled at me to say hello. When I looked up I was spellbound. My neighbors had told me that they were getting a live-in nanny to help with their son and newborn daughter, and there, I assumed, she was. Sofia was, I later learned, a twenty-eight-year-old black woman that was vision of perfection. She stood about five feet three inches tall, with a runner’s toned bo...