After a year of calling my vehicle home, 12 Baskets became my sanctuary. They offered a safe haven and good food, literally saving my life. I was a "bum" until just a year ago, now trying to mind my own business.

One day, a girl named Robin approached me, asking what I was doing. "Watching YouTube," I replied, then offered to let her watch cartoons with me. Soon, she and her sister, Raven, were showing me their favorites. It brought back memories of my niece, a child I’d acted as a surrogate parent to before alienating myself from my family.

Weeks passed, and I kept seeing Robin and Raven at 12 Baskets. "Why aren't these kids in school?" I wondered. I wanted to know their story, promising to keep a secret if they were on the run. I believe in supporting mothers and fathers, and this wasn’t a secret I’d keep hidden. If a community's vision doesn't include struggling families, I want no part of it. This conviction has backfired, leaving me hurt, but I'm also working on my own issues with intimacy, which I find terrifying and often evade.