I caught my son slipping his expensive dinner into our maid’s old bag. Furious, I demanded, “Why are you stealing from your own family?” He looked up with tears in his eyes and whispered, “Because she’s my real mom, and she only eats our leftovers.” My world spun as I looked at the hidden photo in her bag…
Noah’s revelation, I watched her lunch hour with the scrutiny of a hawk.
At noon, right on schedule, she retrieved a meager Tupperware container. Today, it held four saltine crackers and half of a bruised apple. She ate it standing over the sink, staring blankly out the window at the manicured lawns she could never afford to own.
