She is overweight and slightly dramatic,
she arrives late to retrieve her daughter regularly.
I have never given her life much thought before,
nobody has. It seems.
Her daughter is immature and behind in her homework.
She would rather color, or stare into space, or chat.
Fine with me, always has been.
But I have never given her life much thought.
They bicker at pickup, the two redheads... with white eyelashes. Stark white.
Never seen anything like it, and I have a red headed sister.
The mother is late, the night is dark, the wind is howling, the roads are ice.
The girl is whiny. The mother is tired.
She opens up to me, just a bit, in her exhaustion.
She dreads going home to the cold apartment across from price chopper.
She has no dinner prepared.
Just "junk food" which they eat too much of, she tells me, since they can walk to the market.
She can't afford this much longer. This school, this home, this life.
She tells me with tears in her eyes. It is hard. Very hard. She is alone with this girl.
This girl who is behind.
She has tried it all. Nothing is working. She is overwhelmed. The girl is loud.
Happy to see her.
The Mom is cold. Hard. Done.
They leave and the Mom hopes the car will make it home.
The girl laughs.
My eyes are finally open.
I will never be the same.
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