poverty

The leaves of the deciduous trees are beginning to turn — red, orange, yellow, shades of sunset — and fall has arrived, announcing the change of seasons.

All I wanted, most days, was a cute apartment with big windows, sheer curtains billowing in the breeze, where I could sit comfortably and read a book.

Back when we decided to have a baby together, we had a plan. She was never, ever going to have to work full-time. She was going to work part-time, and I was going to work part-time, selling dog food at that cute little store I used to work at. We would have one day off a week in common, and we would be broke, but we would get by. We would be tired, but we would be happy.

Why do we find it more acceptable for parents to be emotionally unavailable to their children than we do for them to choose to live below the poverty line?