Today I was browsing my email and finally making time to read the plethora of newsletters to which I subscribe. With a few more clicks, I landed at this blog. I read it, tears streaming down my face, and felt it was worth the read for all who care to.
http://www.marysplaceseattle.org/blog/i-dont-live-anywhere-we-live-outside/
Excerpt:
The bus ride home from the field trip is long; the kids laugh and chat and hang out of their seats and point at the lights-flashing police car. As we come back into the city:
“Hey, I’m right down that street!” “See that brick wall, behind the corner store? That’s where I live!”
The boy in front of me turns to speak to just me:
“I don’t live anywhere. We live outside.”
And I want to ask him if he’s joking, trying to pull one over on the gullible adult as kids so love to do – then I notice that his pants are far too short and the corduroy is almost worn through.
Damn.
I am thirty-nine years old.
I know thousands of words.
But I am lost at what to tell this child –
This is the world we live in. Where we are bringing up our children. As depressing as it is, there is always hope. And hope feeds action.
‘Nuff said.
Comments are closed.