by Jennifer Olson
When Anna was sixteen months old, I realized just how bad things had gotten. In spite of my best attempts to make a stable life for us, the outside world proved to be a formidable opponent. I approached the world like a cat flying from a full bathtub, ready to fight my way into a nice quiet life for Anna and me. Unfortunately, all I got was a demotion from group home, to homeless shelter, to car. Our life was contained by a metal cage on four wheels. Dinner was cold ravioli from a can. Something needed to change.
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