We arrived home after a week visit with our family in Mexico City. We weren’t prepared for how cold it had turned in Asheville. Neither did we know that airport policy had changed. No longer can you call an Uber and wait in the warmth of the airport. We had to ride a shuttle across the airport road to a remote parking lot where, along with several other shivering exiles, we tried to reach an Uber in the biting wind. Luckily a couple we knew appeared and talked their Uber driver into giving us a ride too. The driver was Ukrainian and depended on his phone to translate what we said and what he said to us. I can’t tell you how warm the warmth of his car felt. He gave us chocolates too. After he dropped off our friends, we realized we didn’t know how to pay him through the ap nor did we have cash to pay him. We tried to direct him to an ATM where we could get cash, but he wasn’t having it. Even though we were taking him miles out of his way, he adamantly refused. He spoke Ukrainian into his phone and then handed it to us. It read, “America took us in and gave us a home. I want to give you a ride for free.” (Painting “Christmas Eve” by Ukrainian Dmytro Dobrovolsky born in Kyiv)