My 13-year-old brought a starving friend home—then something from her backpack stopped me cold
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Eventually, when the electricity returned, and the possibility of eviction was put on hold, Lizie went back to her home. However, she did not really leave our table, either. She visited us not out of hunger but out of love. She held herself differently now, she spoke with authority, and the fearful look she used to give way to a hearty laugh.
One night, several months later, as I stood in the kitchen staring at that very same stove which used to make me feel such resentment, I prepared dinner that was, by no means, lavish. As I heard the girls’ voices coming from the living room, I did not feel the old familiar twinge of stress. No, there was no need to check and recount carrots or calculate rice.
I was simply arranging four plates on the counter when it occurred to me that the hunt had ended and that I had finally got hold of the elusive prey. No, it was not about having plenty of money or a well-stocked pantry. The truth is, I had found what I had been searching for all those years – in the form of a collective effort, an opened door, and an additional chair. That night, I knew without any calculations that there were enough plates for us to have more than enough.
