I was 16 when I met a homeless pregnant woman at a community center. After she died, I raised her son as my own. I thought I knew him completely, but years later, my husband found something that changed everything.I started volunteering at the community outreach center when I was 16.ou know how it is — college applications, the pressure to show you care about something other than yourself, all that.
My job was boring: fold clothes, wipe tables, hand out intake forms, and smile at people who looked like they needed someone to smile at them.Marisol was different.She never came during meal hours. She’d slip in quietly when the building was half empty, pregnant and thin, her hair always pulled back tight.
