Gold🤍🌚

I was at the grocery store. Saw a kid. Maybe ten. Stealing. Pockets full of food. Granola bars. Crackers. Fruit. Store manager caught him. Called the cops. Kid was terrified. Crying. I walked over. Said “I’ll pay for it. How much?” Manager said “He stole. We’re pressing charges.” I said “He’s a child. I’m paying. How much?” $23. I paid. Told the manager to let him go. Kid looked at me. Said “Why?” I said “Because you’re hungry. Food isn’t something you should steal. Or be arrested for. Here.”

I was at the grocery store. Saw a kid. Maybe ten. Stealing. Pockets full of food. Granola bars. Crackers. Fruit. Store manager caught him. Called the cops. Kid was terrified. Crying. I walked over. Said “I’ll pay for it. How much?” Manager said “He stole. We’re pressing charges.” I said “He’s a child. I’m paying. How much?” $23. I paid. Told the manager to let him go. Kid looked at me. Said “Why?” I said “Because you’re hungry. Food isn’t something you should steal. Or be arrested for. Here.”

Last night around 11, I walked into my daughter’s room she’s been secretly crocheting something for two days straight, so of course I already knew… “yep, that’s my Mother’s Day gift” 😂 But instead of finding a proud little artist, I found her in full on tears. Mind you, I had just woken up, so I’m standing there like, “What in the world is happening?Through sniffles she tells me, “I cut it because I’m sleepy and wasn’t paying attention…” and holds up her project cut clean through. Apparently she was trying to fix the yarn an wel fixed it a little too much. I’m not gonna lieI laughed a little don’t judge me 😭, because I taught her how to crochet not too long ago and baby, one thing about yarn… it can be fixed. So I told her, “I know it’s supposed to be a surprise, but come here.” We unraveled the row, put it back together, crisis averted. No big deal.

I cancelled the date because I was not feeling great. Told him the truth: my period started and I was tired and miserable. So he showed up to my house (with my permission) with ice cream and chocolate, gave me a hug, said he hoped I was feeling better, and left. That was lovely. So was the ice cream Date has officially been rescheduled. I'll give you a follow up when it happens.🌚

When I was in 7th grade, one of the 5 schools I attended placed me in the remedial classes. They had no records for me, since my mother dragged us around so much, and it was the analog age. I was a dirty, fat, pimple-ridden, quiet kid from the holler. The school made a seemingly educated decision. But I learned to read when I was 4 years old, and I read literally any and everything. I didn’t belong in remedial classes. About 2 weeks in, a kind teacher took me to the gym showers, gave me some clothes, and moved me to the advanced level classes. She didn’t call my mother. She didn’t question me. She didn’t call social services. I fancy she had seen it all before and knew the futility. But she changed my life that day, because she awoke a dragon and that dragon got me all the way to Duke. I hope her life was long and happy and that she died a peaceful death. Don’t ever think you can’t make a difference.

I was on a flight last night, Seattle to DC. There was a baby on board with mom and dad. I waved as I walked past because I think people who don’t wave to babies and little kids are dead inside. It’s a long flight and with the time change we’re going to be landing at midnight. Baby cried a couple of times, full on wailing, that pitchy screech infants do. The first time I’m pretty sure they were hungry. The second time we were landing, so their ears probably hurt. Know what I did?

My mom is a hairdresser. Small salon. Cheap cuts. $20. Woman came in. Asked for a cut. Hair was matted. Hadn’t been washed in weeks. Mom spent three hours. Washing. Conditioning. Cutting. Making her beautiful again. Woman looked in the mirror. Started crying. “I look human again.” Mom asked what happened. Woman said “Homeless. Two months. Living in my car. Have a job interview tomorrow. Wanted to look presentable.” Mom asked how much she had. Woman said “$8. All I have.”

My sister is a paramedic. Night shift. Got called to an overdose. Young woman. Heroin. Third time this month. Other paramedics were frustrated. “Waste of time. She’ll just do it again.” My sister worked on her anyway. Narcan. Revival. Hospital. Woman woke up angry. “Why did you save me? Let me die.” My sister said “Because you’re alive. That means something.” Woman was admitted. Psych hold. My sister visited. Every day. Off shift. Just sat with her. Woman asked why.

I was at the DMV. Renewing my license. Man in front of me. Paying tickets. $280. He counted cash twice. Had $240. Short $40. Clerk said “Can’t process without full payment.” He asked if he could come back Friday. Payday. She said “License is suspended until paid. Can’t drive.” He put his head down. Said “I need to drive. For work. I’m a driver. This is my job.” Walked away. Sat on the bench. Defeated. I went to the window. Said “That man’s tickets. I’ll pay the $40.” Clerk called him back.

My daughter came home from college her freshman year with a girl I had never met and no advance warning whatsoever. Just walked through our front door on a Friday evening in November dragging her own suitcase and another girl’s behind her like it was completely normal. “Dad, this is Amara. She’s staying with us for Thanksgiving” I looked at my wife. My wife looked at me “Nice to meet you, Amara,” I said. “You hungry?” She nodded without making eye contact. Thin in a way that wasn’t natural. Wearing a jacket inside that she kept on through dinner despite our house being warm. She ate carefully the way my daughter’s friend Leo used to eat. Like someone rationing gratitude so as not to appear too desperate for what was on the plate in front of them. After dinner my daughter helped me with dishes and I asked quietly what was going on. She turned to me with the same steady eyes her mother has when she has already decided something and is just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

My sister is a nurse. ICU. She told me about a patient. Young mother. Car accident. Brain dead. Husband had to decide about life support. He couldn’t. Kept saying “I can’t let her go.” My sister sat with him. For hours. Held his hand while he cried. Finally he said “If you were me, what would you do?” My sister said “I’d let her go. She’s already gone. You’re holding on for you. Not for her.” He signed the papers. They withdrew support. My sister stayed. Entire time. Held his hand.

Last night I was at at my daughter’s soccer game. I saw an old acquaintance who had a daughter playing on the opposite team. We started chatting it up and she was trying to point out her kid, but I couldn’t see her. When there was a pause in the game,

"My husband lost his job right before our second baby was due. For six months, he sent out hundreds of applications—nothing. I watched this proud man crumble, depression setting in. One morning, he left for another interview wearing his only suit,

My little sister is Black. My mom took her to Black hairstylists and on the advice of the hairstylists, my mom would have my little sister go natural once a month (to give her scalp a rest). Inevitably, someone from church would touch my little sister's hair when it was natural because it was poufy. My mom constantly asked them not to touch her, but since they weren't insulting it, they didn't think there was anything wrong with it.

I’m sad. My son who graduates soon isn’t going to prom, but because he didn’t want to but because no one would allow him to be a part of their group. My son is very shy and was bullied every year until this year. He was bullied relentlessly by teachers and students. He decided last min to purchase a ticket to prom -it took him months to get the courage to buy a ticket- and when he asked if anyone had room for one more, no one would allow him to join. So, he isn’t going anymore . I can’t fix this pain. 💔

I have been the head librarian at a small public library for twenty one years. People think this job is about books. It is about books the way a lighthouse is about light. The light matters but what matters more is what the light is for. A man started coming in every morning when we opened. Retired. Widower. He never checked anything out. Just sat at the same table by the window with a cup of coffee from the shop next door and read whatever was on the new arrivals shelf.

I have a neighbor. She’s 74 years old. Every morning she steps out onto the balcony in a silk robe, drinks coffee, and smokes a thin cigarette. I used to quietly hate her the noise, the smell, the music at 7 a.m.

the one we'd borrowed money to buy. That evening, he came home defeated. 'Didn't get it. I'm failing our family.' He looked broken. The next day, someone knocked on our door. A woman stood there holding my husband's suit jacket. 'He left this at our office yesterday.

I’m a librarian. We have rules. Strict ones. A little girl, maybe 9, came to my desk trembling. She pushed a copy of Harry Potter across the counter. It was ruined. Soaked. Muddy. "I... I dropped it in a puddle," she whispered. "I don't have the money to replace it." She was terrified. I looked at her file. She checked out three books a week. Never late. I looked at the book. Then I looked at her cheap, worn-out sneakers. I scanned the book. beep. "What book?" I asked. She looked confused. "The one... right there." I slid the ruined book into the trash can behind me. "I don't see a book. Our system says you returned it yesterday. Must have been a glitch." I grabbed a brand new copy from the shelf and handed it to her. "This one is checked out to you now. Try to keep it dry, okay?" She didn't say a word. She just grabbed my hand, squeezed it hard, and ran off. I paid for the lost book out of my paycheck. Best $15 I ever spent.

My husband asked me last week why I suddenly stopped asking permission to spend money. I realized I hadn't asked in four months. That's when I knew something had actually shifted. Before the digital products, I was making $38K a year as a teacher. Dan made $52K. We had one joint checking account. Every purchase over $50 I'd mention first—not because he said I had to, but because the money felt like his. I was borrowing from it.

Once upon a time, my mother decided she wanted a cow. We lived on 7 acres in northern New Jersey. She bought a beautiful black angus cow. Named her Peggy after her mother. Peggy was pretty chill. My mother bought a rope halter and would walk the cow from the barn to the fenced in field about 300 feet apart. One day, my 8 year old self hears my mother yelling to get in the house. My mother comes running in the house behind me... eyes wide, red hair disheveled. She gasps, "Peggy's loose". I respond the only way a 8 year knows how, "WHAT, how?". My mother regains some dignity and says, "Not important, but we have to go find her."