Letter to District School Board:
There’s an important issue I need to address.
Before I begin, this new program is hurting all of our children, not only my daughter. The system implemented by the district is designed to benefit stay-at-home mother‘s and people who have the luxury of childcare. I’ve spoken with you several times. Begged for other options. My daughter was only four weeks old when I had to start my own business. It wasn’t a luxury. It was something I had to do because I could not find work or childcare. My girl has an IEP, ADHD, PTSD, a developments delay, and a learning disability. She needs special attention. Attention I give my best effort to give her but I am not a teacher. I don’t have the tools or knowledge to give her the education that she needs. Her beautiful mind it too complex for me.
Hallween, year 2020. During the five years since my move from Chicago I continued to make a living from home by learning dozens of new skills and adapting to a market very different from what I was accustomed to. When you have kids, no family, no childcare, and no money you have to think outside of the box to put food on the table. The demand for cloth diapers dwindled and we had to start over again.
My tools. My artwork, paints, brushes, pencils, canvas. The sweat, blood, and tears reflected in the woodcrafts, stone sculptures, and fabric. Everything that weaved my life’s tapestry.
You are a shooting star, brother. Your soul blazed brilliant. Fire and light illuminating the horizon, branding your memory on the hearts of all who witnessed. The stars that shine the brightest, carving streaks in heavenly canvas of night, in a flickering moment of awe fade out of sight.
By the time I returned to St. Louis, after nearly a decade in Chicago, half of my life savings was gone. I was a ghost of myself. Finally, I was free from my husband after enduring years of atrocities.
I was in a terrible car accident years ago. A seemingly normal day. I was on my way to work. Only 22 years old, cruising 80mph down the freeway when I heard my phone buzz from the passenger seat. Maybe it was human reflex or force of habit that pulled my eyes away the road. I turned my gaze toward the cell phone hum against the leather seat. Only a blink. A moment. When I looked up, a semi-trailer was at a dead stop not 10 feet ahead. Time stopped. Calm came over me as I watched the front end of my car folding against the trailer, my inevitable demise, in slow motion. My higher conscious spoke, “I’m ready. I’m ready to go home.” Overcome with peace and trust I lifted my foot off the break...