Racing and Homelessness
“Congrats on your race honey, we’re homeless,” she whispered into my ear. No warning and no pause between the congratulation and the announcement of our homelessness. I won the section meet but my accomplishment did not matter to her.
That is how my mom was. She loved me, but tormented me with her instability. She did the very best she knew how to do, and I am grateful for the good things I got from her. But some of those bad things, I could do without.
After her congratulatory homelessness announcement, I ran off with my friends to celebrate that our team made it to state. I could see in my mom’s eyes that she was upset. I knew her well enough to know that she wanted me to leave the cross-country meet with her to figure out how to manage the homelessness, but I pushed back. No time to think about homelessness right now! Too much fun happening. I knew I would take on the responsibility soon, but didn’t want to yet. I wanted to appear and feel “normal.” I wanted to be a high school kid.
At this point, I was familiar with concealing chaos. My mom never wanted anyone to see we were struggling. “They cannot know we are homeless,” she would tell me. So, I worked as hard as I could to do well and look good no matter our circumstances. She had already lost her other kids, my four siblings. I could see she could barely keep herself together now. I imagined she would crumble completely if she lost me. I did not want the court and my dad to take me from her, too. They had already been trying. I had to save her.
My teammates and I boarded our bus back to the high school to keep celebrating. We proudly wore our medals around our necks: Section Champions. I was hugging everyone I saw because I was so excited about the win, and I had recently been inspired by the “free hugs” guy.
When we got back to our high school, we ran into the gym to cheer for our school’s volleyball team which had an important match that day. One of my teammates dared me to hug people from the other team’s fan section. I loved these types of dares as they almost always caused laughter. Laughter was (and admittedly still is) one of my favorite escapes.
So, I walked up to the most rambunctious fans I could find and let them know I was “collecting hugs” today. I figured the ones with their face painted red might be most receptive to my unusual request. They were startled and confused, but laughs erupted from everyone who accepted a hug and anyone who was nearby. My teammates shook with laughter on the other side of the gym while they watched me get hugs from one stranger after another.
After the volleyball game was over, my teammates and I went to a friend’s house right across the street from the high school. My mom picked me up in the run-down green station wagon my godparents gave her. I was embarrassed by that car because most of the students who went to my private Catholic high school were wealthy.
My mom told me we could sleep in the station wagon in my dad’s driveway that night since my dad was out of town. They had been divorced for several years by this time, so I thought it was a terrible idea. But it was before everyone had home camera monitors, so I tried to get comfy in the front seat of the station wagon to sleep. Many of our belongings were piled up in the back seat, so there was no room to stretch out. I was sweaty and tired from racing earlier in the day, so I was not able to sleep. I insisted that we call Nana and Papa and drive out to their house so that we could sleep in a bed, and I could shower. I was sure Nana would have a snack for me, too.
Begrudgingly, my mom consented. I do not know when my mom started to follow my lead instead of mothering me, but this was not the first or last time I would make decisions for her, for us.