This is not the picture I intended to take, but these things change. Last December my daughter was getting close with a little girl and on impulse I filled a little box like this with little things–a a candy scented stick of lip gloss, a rubber ball filled with water and glitter, a glittery bracelet–and gave it to her after school on her birthday. I felt a little odd about it, because I wasn’t sure the girls were at the point that they would be exchanging gifts, and we live in an area where lots of people can’t afford big things for their kids, so public shows of gifting are rather uncomfortable and unpredictable.

Saturday night I learned my little box was the only present the little girl got on her birthday.

So yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry that I didn’t give more. I’m angry that her parents didn’t get her anything (one of them works at a thrift store and gets a huge discount. She could have gotten something, even used is better than nothing!)

But that’s not where it stops. It gets worse. Worse and I just cannot go into more on a public forum, where someone might find this and get angry. Because right now a little girl’s health depends on her having a place to stay. Maybe her physical health, but definitely her mental health. And I’m caught between probably getting taken advantage of and leaving a child alone in a seriously crappy situation. So I’m angry at the people putting her there. I’m angry that I can’t give her more and I’m angry that we seem to be expected to take on the responsibility.