I’ve been reading this post on being poor. It’s partly an explanation as to why a lot of people couldn’t evacuate from the path of hurricane Katrina.
It’s strange, but there were bits in it that brought tears to my eyes, because my family had been in that situation in the past and it brought back some memories that I thought I had forgotten.
I thank my luck that I’m no longer in that situation, but tonight, when I’m at work, I know that I’ll see signs of poverty at some of the houses that I go to – and that this post will make me think about it a lot more than I normally would.
Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.
Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends' houses but never has friends over to yours.
Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won't hear you say “I get free lunch” when you get to the cashier.
Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.
Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn't have make dinner tonight because you're not hungry anyway.