…is toilet paper, according to the six year old. She is not happy with the toilet paper providers. Of course the concept of where the stuff comes from is a little fuzzy, but even she has noticed there’s not enough on each roll anymore, because they constantly go empty. There are not enough rolls to last between pay checks. The child lives in the USA in a town rich enough to keep the park stocked and the schools stocked but somehow not always her home.
Her dad is gone to work 13 hours a day at a physical job, and guys aren’t quite so sensitive to the issue anyway. A lot of his dollars go child support for far away kids and mandatory bills.
Sometimes it seems like the other kids of richer parents are material accessories to be afforded and pampered. If not convenient, discard before birth.
These kids on the other hand grow like weeds on a fence. Weeds are tough and tall, but at risk to get mowed down by forces they cannot control. If not before birth, then after.
Is it society’s job to build a fence to protect them? If that fence cannot be nuclear family then what?
We sit by the harbor making letters with a stick in the sand. We make flash cards with paper and pen and they become prized possessions years later. I cannot be here much longer, other kids that are mine to care for are in need. I am water and a temporary fence.
It is impressive what happens with even a little water. We hope.
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