We were there when her child support stopped coming, as her ex hid assets from the government. We were there when they were finally evicted--the first month, we got a little funding from a charity to help them stay, but eventually all we could do was help them move.
They broke up not long after they moved out of this building. We've stayed in close contact with him, and still regularly take care of him. We've only heard from her once or twice, mostly when she needed help moving from one homeless shelter to another. This makes the third time we've moved her since she left here--once from our apartment building, once from the YWCA to another shelter, and now. She had been to others, too--this was the fifth (or sixth?) move for them since they'd left our apartment building. And this was the worst--from a homeless shelter, not into another, but into a motel room.
We got the call at 6:30, rushed to rent a U-haul, spent all evening ferrying boxes and bags down stairs into the truck. By the time we got to her new place, it was 11:00, and we stared around in horror: the motel had two queen size beds, a tiny bathroom, and just a little room to walk around between them. She had three kids (7, 5, 18 mos), and we had a U-haul full of stuff from a 2 bedroom apartment.
Couldn't leave it in the truck, storage was expensive, there was only so much room at our place, and besides, they needed a lot of it day to day... somehow we crammed it all in, tilting one of the beds up on end and stacking to the ceiling. It was 1:30 AM when we left. She gave us most of her food--with a tiny fridge, no stove, and no space, flour and eggs weren't going to do her much good. The kids were bouncing off the walls and the 18 month old was periodically screaming--and they aren't back in school until Monday. She had $20 to feed the family, and the food-stamps get renewed in a week--and all she had to cook with was a microwave.
Knowing these people has been a long, sad story, and I mourn for them far beyond tears these days. But tonight was the worst. We left her living with three loud kids in a tiny motel room--all four sleeping on the same bed--with canned green beans and fig newtons to live on for a week, hoping the diapers/clean socks/school backpacks weren't buried hip deep in the pile of stuff that stretches to the ceiling. The blinds didn't cover the window all the way--we rolled up towels to keep out prying eyes. There was a wire duct-taped to the ceiling, cigarette burns everywhere, and a hole in the wall; outside thugly and questionable characters continually strutted by, confirming that the neighborhood was anything but nice--but with no car, she's going to have to brave it as best she can.
I'm going back tomorrow, of course, and bringing food. And I'll see what I can do about getting them out of the house... I just wish I could do more. I can't do a whole lot financially; our own budget is tight enough that we'll be feeling that Uhaul, at least until I can find a job myself. But I wish I knew more about the system. I wish I knew who to yell at. (Well, I do--her caseworker's boss--but I mean, I wish I knew who to yell at such that it would do some good.)
I feel such a great desire to help, and at the same time so powerless. It's now half past 3 AM, and there's no way I'm sleeping soon--I know where my friend is. And all the things that seemed so important to me melt away as petty struggles, and my own obsession with enchanting dragon scale mail now seems repulsive. In the middle of unloading the truck, Tom looked at me and said, "This is absolutely unacceptable in a society that values human life." And he was right.
I don't care what political stripe you are, this should not be. This woman is going to go insane before long, and these kids can't keep moving every two months. And I just wish...
I wish it wasn't. There are intolerable things that happen every day that you're powerless to stop, but knowing that doesn't make it more bearable. I can see the hurt that falls on what's left of this shattered family. I can hear it in the kids' voices. I can see the stress and insanity in my friend's eyes, and it is intolerable. And I can't stand it, and I can do so -little- about it.
), and the kids are still bouncing off the walls, but... she'll live. She's got food now, and she's working with her case worker to try to get housing elsewhere, and... life goes on. 
Wow, some of you people are heartless!
Goodnight!