In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Secret Santa.”
Let’s say my secret Santa is one of the aging-out foster kids in my town, and I could give anything to that kid anonymously. I would give them a home to call their own–completely paid for, and taxes paid for the next ten years. It would be a place to feel secure. An anchor in this sea called life. A place to build a life from.
The house would be next-door to where I live, and I would be sure to check on them often and be there for them to call on the way they would a parent. I remember that when I moved out of the house for the first time, I needed my parents more than ever before, but they were states away, and it felt kind of cold having to come up with everything on my own essentially. And I at least had parents I knew I could turn to if things went horribly south and I needed to have someone through me a life preserver. I think that helped me to feel like I could take the risks I did. If I didn’t have that, I’m not sure what I would have done, and yet, there are thousands of young people every year facing that problem.