My son saved 120$ in a year, here’s what he decided to do with it:

Saturday morning, my son walked into my room and said he wanted to use his money to help the homeless.  I asked him what he had in mind, and he said he wanted to make them lunches. I have to be honest, I almost tried to talk him into just holding on to his money and having mom and dad pay for it, but the light in his eyes told me to just roll with it.

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ: ᴀ ʜᴏʙʙɪᴛs ᴛᴀʟᴇ

  • ɪɴ ᴇᴍᴏᴊɪ

I typed the number in my phone
but you would have not been there to answer it.
I don’t even know if your number is in use anymore.

There are stacks of minature cards,
and jars of damson jam,
that I know you’d have loved.
And that I will not be able to buy for you.
I still have a couple of cards in my drawer,
that you made for me to send.

Nothing will fill the gap around the Christmas table,
where you should have been.
The laughable awkwardness as you thanked
Mum for the Christmas dinner that Dad had cooked.
Every year.
The irritation if anyone talked over the Queen’s speech,
the philsophical discussions on religion,
all those places you had been; I think you’d travelled
the whole world.

Now the picture I drew you of a horse,
is in Grandma’s house.
Someone else is living in yours.

I drive past the turning to where you lie,
whenever I go to university.
I know I should stop by.
I just don’t know how.
It feels strange to wish you a Merry Christmas,
but I’m going to do it anyway.
Even though you’re not here,
wherever you are.
It still feels near.

—  In memory of my great Aunt.