From March 11, 2022

On Tuesday, in frustration from so many things all going wrong all day long, I said, “My life is not my own.” On Wednesday morning I was standing on the balcony as the sun was slowly rising. As the golden light began to banish the darkness, I was filled with gratitude for another day. My sense of peace was briefly interrupted by a crying child. I knew who it was…a 5- or 6-year-old boy. The staffer could not get him to stop his tantrum. I shouted his name. He instantly became silent.

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