I noticed money disappearing from my wallet every time my daughter went out with her friends. Initially, I brushed it off, but when I left a twenty-dollar bill on my dresser and it vanished, I decided to follow her.
She walked through town and stopped at an old, dilapidated house. Peeking through a window, I saw her kneeling beside three small children, sharing food from her backpack—juice boxes, crackers, and apples. Tears filled my eyes as I realized she had been caring for them.
That night, I confronted her. She explained that she had met the children weeks ago and had been bringing them food. “I didn’t mean to take your money,” she said. I felt a wave of understanding.
“Not angry. Proud,” I told her. The next day, we returned together with groceries. Watching her laugh with those children, I realized she hadn’t stolen from me—she had given.
