Dangerous Compassions


LM:  Can I complain about something for a minute?

M:  Yes.

We were driving home from the store, looking at a beautiful sunrise after rain.

LM:  I see all kinds of stuff like, adopt a shelter dog, don’t breed your dog.  But then when it comes to people, I don’t see anything saying to adopt.

M:  Yeah.

LM:  It’s like they care more about animals than about people!

M:  They do.

LM:  I guess animals are easier to love?  People can be hard to love.

M:  They put down the difficult animals.

LM:  It’s like no one cares!  Everyone knows the foster kids are fucked up.  So just let them go to jail?

M:  Yeah…

LM:  It’s like they’re not even worth anything!  My friend did it.  Tons of people do it.

M:  They do.

We had pulled into our driveway. 

We spend a lot of time supporting the Catholic Worker which feeds the hungry.  The works of mercy are about everyone having worth.  The world is weird, with everyone wanting fresh babies.  I can barely take care of myself.

Yesterday my new friend K came over with her youngest child.  I heard him first, outside. 

We sat in the courtyard at the picnic table.  K had brought us juice boxes, cookies her mom baked.  She had a lunchable and a bag of Doritos for the kid.

I made the kid guess what kind of tree that was.  He didn’t seem to like it.  “Just start listing fruits,” K said.  We thought about what grows here and what doesn’t.  I don’t know if the child had ever eaten a fig.

We talked about the huge orange cat, fluffy and fat.  “Her name is Catastophe,” I said. 

The kid wanted to know how the cats got so chubby.  I told him the story of how a long time ago, the courtyard cats were all skinny.  But something changed, and I think it’s ok.  “They seem happy,” I said.

The kid ate the whole bag of Doritos, and I called him a chip champion.  I asked him if he went to school.  We talked about the YMCA, my friend’s new shoes.  It was her birthday.

My bestie txted me yesterday–her baby is six months old now and had his first solid food: sweet potato.  He looked cute in the picture.

I’m wearing my new dress.  Unfortunately, Ming hung it on the back of the bedroom door with the nightgowns.  “Did you think it was a robe?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Is that because of the tie?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Should I take the tie off?”

“No,” he said.  “I like you in a tie.”

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

One reply on “fresh”

I am so upset about more people not caring about kids in foster care and kids in immigrant detention. We should all be protesting in the streets every day until every kid is out of the reach of ICE, but sadly, it's not happening. It helps to know there are people like you and Ming who have big hearts and care about people.

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