They asked us to take in two kids. We only had room for one—at least, that’s what we thought. The boy arrived first, terrified and overwhelmed. But in the front seat, we saw his sister. Crying. Silent. About to be taken hours away. We didn’t have a bed for her. But in that moment, something inside us shifted. So we did the only thing we could—we took the bunk beds apart. That night, two siblings slept under the same roof. Safe. Together. It was only supposed to be for a few days. But love changed the plan.
When I think back to that first night, I remember how small they both looked. Liam was seven, clutching his backpack like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His sister, Mia, was five, and she had the kind of wide eyes that told you she’d seen far too much for her age. We didn’t know their whole story yet. Just that they needed a place to sleep and people to make them feel less alone.
