When they said we were allowed to go, I should’ve felt a lot better than I did.
To be perfectly honest, I didn’t feel anything. Even with a smile on her face, clutching her animal companion and waving to all the nurses, I couldn’t stop thinking about the worry inside me.
We lost the place we used to live.
The rent was missed months before during that time I was in the hospital with her, day and night. Her dad had left her life long ago. Their response was that they understood, but they haven’t contacted me in two weeks now. I understood the meaning of that.
I made sure I didn’t let it show. I smiled at her often, brushed her hair and let her pick her own balloon from the gift shop.
Shortly after, two more cops arrived in the lobby.
I panicked for a moment. I wondered if it was all about bills or the research I wasn’t able to complete.
One of the nurses then nodded and whispered to me, “It’s alright.” They’re here for your support.
The officers suggested we give them our bags and helped us move to a temporary spot. I wasn’t sure what it meant and I couldn’t hold my eyes open to ask more questions.
We made our way out as families usually do—the wheels screeching along the floor, with nurses waving as they saw us go.
Nonetheless, as soon as we left the station, an officer sidled up to me and gave me a plain white envelope.
He told me, “Wait to open it until once you get into the van.”
Now, we’re inside the van.
An envelope is on my lap.
I just saw the corner actually has his name written on it.
Callie, my daughter, came over and pulled on my sleeve. Is it possible to have ice cream?
What I heard in her voice was such hope and pure joy that it almost crushed me. How do you help a six-year-old understand that there isn’t enough money? That everything appears to be falling apart around you?
“Maybe when you’re older,” I said, smiling as much as I could. Right now, why don’t we think about our future plans, okay?
She nodded in agreement and then looked out the window. The window of the van moved by quickly as everything seemed to blur together. Often, she would bring my attention to dogs going by or to bright murals painted on buildings and her happiness helped take the edge off my anxiety.
However, I couldn’t stop thinking about that envelope. I wondered why the officer didn’t let us open the box until we got inside the van. And the author’s name was barely visible in the bottom margin? It was recognizable, yet I couldn’t quite remember where from.
Long after we got used to driving, the van finally came to a peaceful residential area. Although the housing wasn’t flashy, the homes were kept neat with well-trimmed grass and lively, colorful flower beds. In front of us stood a little blue house with white shutters. A woman was there on the porch, with her arms crossed, as we approached.
“This will be your home for a little while,” said one of the officers. “Mrs. You will be safe in Harper’s care while things are sorted out for you by the vet.
Temporary placement? I had no idea what the teacher meant. Was this structure, in any way, meant as shelter? Foster care? I didn’t get it and by the time I wanted to ask more, the officers had stepped out of the vehicle.
“Wait!” I started calling loudly after them. “What about—”
“Hold the envelope up to the light,” the younger officer said calmly. I noticed the look in his eye before he shut the door behind us.
Callie skipped by my side as Mrs. Harper got to the van. Probably around her early sixties, the doctor dressed her in slick black pants and a white lab coat. Her face changed as she spotted Callie and she smiled broadly.
She greeted us with “Welcome,” as she started helping us get organized. We’ll help you feel right at home.
Callie quickly followed as I moved closer to the sofa and Mrs. Harper went into the kitchen, leaving us alone for a little while. I trembled slightly as I reached for the envelope again. The plaque had Derek Monroe written on it and stared me in the face.
I suddenly had to stop breathing. Derek… It’s not true. Could it?
My heart beat fast as I opened the envelope. All I found inside was a sheet of paper and a key on a note card. I received an address from the anonymous sender:
This is no longer charity. That’s our family. Scan the code or find me on Google Maps at 427 Maple Street. You’ll be able to make sense of everything there.
The number on the document matched the house number out front. It all added to my confusion. What person could have made this? And why?
I quickly looked over the letter as I took it out of the envelope. I began to cry as I saw the letter was from him and understood why.
I am older than Derek Monroe, so he was my brother. We hadn’t talked to each other since he moved away after college. Our lives slowly took us in different paths and we eventually grew apart. I didn’t know if he was still living here anymore.
Nevertheless, it was stated that he had been following my actions. No matter the way, Josh had found out the problems I was going through. Once he found out about Callie’s health and my finances, he helped.
Though I could not be with you lately, I am around now. The house is in my name, yet it’s paid for, fully equipped and you can use it as long as you wish. Everything is on my own terms. Just agree to involve me again in your lives, because I miss being deeply involved with you.
The letter felt heavy in my hands as I took it in. For so long, I had thought he couldn’t remember me anymore. He came forward when I really needed help.
Mrs. Harper cooked a fresh tray of cookies and made me a glass of lemonade. She laid what she was holding on the coffee table and looked at me closely. With a light laugh, she added, “You look like someone just scared you with a ghost.”
I said it without expecting much from her, handing over the letter. Her face grew more peaceful as she started to read.
“He’s a decent person,” she told me. “He’s shy and mostly alone, yet happy to help whenever others need it. He wanted me to go by and see how you were feeling.
It wasn’t just comfy—it really felt good being safe and hopeful there. Loved.
Derek checked in with me several times during the following days. Initially, all I had were texts and calls, to get updates about how we were doing. After that, he rolled up to my place one evening carrying pizza and some games. Callie immediately liked him and wouldn’t stop talking about her favorite cartoons while showing off what she had drawn.
It brought me a feeling that was slightly sad and very joyful to watch them together. I’d shouldered all my worries and misery on my own for a long time. Because Derek was generous, I stopped having to pay for help.
With the months, the typical routines began to reappear in life. Derek helped me get a job at a nearby bookstore. After taking time off, Callie was able to attend classes again, picked up new friends and managed to do great even with everything in her past. We became a tighter family unit than ever before.
We were sitting on the porch at sunset one day and Derek said, “You know, this doesn’t affect our relationship in any way.” I still treat you as my sister. I have always been this way and always will stay the same.
I looked back up, my eyes getting watery. “Thank you,” was all I managed to whisper. “For everything.”
No one’s life is without problems. It’s not over yet; healing will take time. Yet, for the first time recently, I feel like there is real hope. There are times when it’s those you didn’t expect to support who are the ones who rescue you.
My most important advice is: Don’t give up even if the journey seems hard. Reach out. Get assistance when you need it. Let someone help you when they can—you could be surprise by what follows.
People reading this should know: There’s more to family than DNA and it’s the bonds we treasure most. If this post made you think, please help share and like it. We should tell ourselves and each other that we have company.