I raised my little sister alone and thought keeping her fed was enough. Then she spent all her lunch money on a birthday cake for a lonely boy at the hospital. The next morning, a black balloon and a red box appeared on our lawn, and everything I believed about love changed.
The morning after my little sister spent every coin she had on a birthday cake for a boy at the hospital, I opened our front door and found our lawn covered in balloons.
Dozens were tied to bricks and planted across the wet grass.
In the exact center stood one enormous black balloon. Under it sat a red box.
Della, my little sister, gripped the back of my shirt. “Syd, who is that from?”
I couldn’t answer. My stomach had already dropped.
A note was taped to the lid.
“You came to my window every day. Nobody else did. And nobody knew anything about me. Please open it.”
***
I’d raised Della alone since I was 19.
Our parents got lost while hiking 8 years earlier and never came back. One week, I was arguing with Mom about curfew. The next week, I was signing forms for Della with shaking hands.
By the time Della turned eight, we had a routine. She got the bedroom. I slept on the pull-out couch and worked breakfast shifts at a diner and nights in a pharmacy stockroom.
Della never complained. That scared me more than whining.
One Thursday evening, I was folding laundry while she sat on the floor, shaking an old mint tin full of coins.
“You’re eating lunch at school, right?” I asked.
Della froze.
“I’m eating parts of lunch, Syd.”
“Parts?”
“The free parts.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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