
I’m on a train, Christmas Day, heading to see my mother in her hospital bed. She is 92, 93 in February, that is if she survives this crisis. I look out the window and snap a photo, thinking, “I hope she’s feeling warm and bundled up.”
The before, during and after stories, poems and photos of a homeless child.
I’m on a train, Christmas Day, heading to see my mother in her hospital bed. She is 92, 93 in February, that is if she survives this crisis. I look out the window and snap a photo, thinking, “I hope she’s feeling warm and bundled up.”
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