Lloyd’s mailbox clicked open as the key turned in the lock. Three letters were waiting.
The first was his phone bill. With a sigh, Lloyd knew he would need to call the company again and ask them to stop sending physical bills. Each one cost him 60 cents. He detested even small amounts of waste.
The second was from yet another organization asking for money for a Christmas jingle-themed appeal. He quickly scrunched it up and threw it in the nearby garbage bin.
The third was addressed to ‘Santa Claus’ and crayons had been used to write the name and his apartment number. On the back was a small message, ‘please help’, with a cute crayon picture of Santa sizzling sausages on a barbeque.
Lloyd was about to toss this into the bin as well, but decided to open it. Inside, a brief letter (written in a rainbow of different coloured pens) explained that the person was asking for help to take care of their mother. The person didn’t want their mother to know and trusted Lloyd not to mention it to her.
A frail voice from behind Lloyd startled him. “Are you alright? You seem a bit unsettled. Something in the mail?”
“Oh, yes, thank you. I’m fine, Enid. It’s a letter that was placed in my mailbox but addressed to Santa Claus. It has my apartment number but that’s it. I guess someone living here put it in my letterbox?”
‘It’s from little Henry in 6C. They aren’t doing so well, you know. He sent one to me as well.” Enid held an envelop and letter closely matching his own.
“His mother doesn’t know he’s asking strangers for money?”
“Not strangers. Henry trusts you. He has sent a few to me over the last year and I give him some money when I can.”
Lloyd knew the young boy but rarely saw his mother, Angela. They would periodically bump into each other in the hallway or near the mailboxes and exchange brief pleasantries. He guessed Henry was charged with collecting the mail. Lloyd didn’t think he had done anything to warrant the trust of an 11-year-old.
“Do you know what he does with the money?”
“Not for certain, but shortly after I give some money, I see them with bags of groceries and Henry might have a new school bag or shoes.”
“You trust him then?”
“Yes, of course. Is trust difficult for you?”
“Normally, yes. You get burnt a few times and from then on everyone seems out to get you.”
Lloyd carefully folded Henry’s letter and placed it is his coat pocket before pulling some bills from his wallet and placing them in the envelop.
“Is there anything else we can do for them?”
“Probably, but Henry hasn’t asked you for more help, has he? Helping someone isn’t just about money; it’s about helping when asked and respecting their privacy when they don’t.”
Lloyd resealed the envelop and dropped it into 6C’s mailbox.
“Thank you, Enid.”
