They Kicked Our Survival Box, So We Built a Wall They Couldn’t Tear Down

of us are one bad diagnosis or one broken transmission away from drowning.

I used to worry about my legacy. I don’t have money to leave behind.

But last night, I watched a young mother reach into that cardboard box and pull out a pair of warm gloves I had left there. She pressed them to her face and closed her eyes.

That is enough legacy for me.

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