Where’s the scrawl?

you ask. How do you cover it all? I reply. --Sarah Harmer


So many moments.

Just hard to hold to, scrubbed down by nightshifts, mind polished smooth as the ballroom floor in this renovated office building. Conscience restless as the people out there on the floor, tossing and turning in the air-conditioned hum of nearly 4 a.m.

One of our beautiful boys came in tonight with nothing on him but a pieced-together crack pipe. Nothing else to his name these days.

Another boy got a job and brought everybody two flats of doughnuts, which we crowed over and feasted on.

"Good-night, shelter parents," says another as he heads to his mat.


And the girls, the girls are women who follow these boys...

One craving apples in her first trimester.
Another with a tiny daughter in ICU, born just this week.
Yet another, eight months pregnant, whose shirt reads Future Development -- an arrow pointing to her tummy!