Baby Steps

“It’s Too Noisy, I’m Not Paying to Listen to Your Baby Cry for 3 Hours on This Flight”—The Man Who Shouted At Me on the Plane, It Was Cheap That I Had to Use All My Savings to Buy. But When the Man in the Black Suit Called His Name, He Turned Pale and the Entire Cabin Was Silent My husband, David, d!.ed in a car accident when I was six months pregnant. When our son, Ethan, arrived, joy and sorrow lived in the same crib. Bills stacked up like little cliffs. I learned the grammar of survival: coup

“It’s Too Noisy, I’m Not Paying to Listen to Your Baby Cry for 3 Hours on This Flight”—The Man Who Shouted At Me on the Plane, It Was Cheap That I Had to Use All My Savings to Buy. But When the Man in the Black Suit Called His Name, He Turned Pale and the Entire Cabin Was Silent My husband, David, d!.ed in a car accident when I was six months pregnant. When our son, Ethan, arrived, joy and sorrow lived in the same crib. Bills stacked up like little cliffs. I learned the grammar of survival: coup

It was just a Tuesday. I’d dropped Molly (my rescue mutt) at the vet to check her wound, then wandered into our little church thrift shop to browse fall décor. Didn’t expect anything special. But that’s when I saw her. Late 20s, a baby on her hip, wearing a worn-out hoodie and shoes barely hanging together. She picked up a $15 pair of sneakers, held them for a moment, then whispered — I swear I heard it — “No… that’s groceries for three days,” and set them back down. She bought one tiny onesie a