I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

My house isn’t quiet anymore. It’s filled with scattered toys, uncontrollable laughter, and a sense of profound purpose I thought I had lost forever.

We are so quick to judge in this world. We see tattoos, we see worn clothes, we see frantic exhaustion, and we immediately lock our doors and assume the absolute worst.

We are so terrified of each other.continue reading …