I Packed My Son’s Lunch Every Morning – It Led the Police Straight to My Door

“I didn’t want you to feel bad, Mom,” he said, glancing down at his pencil and then back at me.

“You already do so much.”

“What you did was extremely kind, baby,” I said, reaching across and touching my son’s cheek. “It was quietly, and bravely, kind.”

“You are everything I ever hoped you’d be,” I whispered.

“You always say that when you’re about to cry,” he said, smiling.

“I’m not crying.”

My son laughed and kept drawing.

Two days later, a package showed up at our door.

There was no return address. It was just a plain cardboard box sealed carefully with clear tape, and tucked underneath the flap was a card.

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