I waited on that porch from 6:00 in the evening until 10 at night, 4 hours. My mother went back inside after the first 5 minutes. The porch light never came on.
Uncle Harold lived in Seattle, 3 hours away. He drove through the night to get to me. When his gray Honda pulled into the driveway, I was still sitting on those garbage bags, knees pulled to my chest. He got out without saying anything at first, just walked up, looked at me, and wrapped me in a hug so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“From now on,” he said quietly, “you have a home.”
That night, as we drove north through the darkness toward Seattle, I didn’t know that my mother had signed a document before Uncle Harold left. I didn’t know what it meant. I was just a scared kid staring out the window, wondering what I’d done wrong.
It would take 15 years for that document to resurface. And when it did, it would change everything.
Uncle Harold’s house in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood wasn’t large, but it felt enormous compared to the cramped space I’d occupied in my family’s home. For the first time in my life, I had a room that was entirely mine. More importantly, I had someone who believed in me.
Uncle Harold had built Meers Property Holdings from scratch, a commercial real estate company he’d started with a single small office building he’d purchased after working double shifts for 6 years. By 2010, he owned eight properties across the Seattle metro area. He never married, never had children. When I arrived on his doorstep with nothing but two garbage bags, he didn’t just take me in, he invested in me.
Over the next four years, I poured myself into school. I graduated from Ballard High in 2014 as class validictorian, president of the math club with a 4.0 unweighted GPA. The University of Washington offered me admission with a partial scholarship to their Foster School of Business. By 2018, I had my bachelor’s degree in finance, graduating sumakum laad with a 3.94 GPA.
Uncle Harold had given me internship opportunities at Meyers Property Holdings. Starting my sophomore year, I learned the business from the ground up, data entry, lease analysis, tenant relations, property assessments. In 2019, after 18 months at a big four style accounting firm I’ll call Mitchell and Partners, I earned my CPA certification.
One year later, Uncle Harold offered me a position as controller. By 2021, I was CFO. On my 26th birthday, I managed a portfolio of 12 commercial properties with a combined value of $23.7 million. Uncle Harold sent me an email that day. I still have it saved. The subject line read, “To my daughter.” The message was simple.
