My turn to cry

In 2016 during a summer of exploration and adventure I remember driving the roads and canyons of some of the most breathtaking views in some of the most beautiful neighborhoods. I was a DoorDash driver in Los Angeles and I had my fourteen-year-old son with me on just about every trip. We were making our own money on our own time in our own (mostly) vehicle. Yeah, we were homeless and living in hotel after hotel, but we were FREE. I remember how Malachi cried one day. So angry, so sad — bereft, actually — at the sight of one stunning home after another. Along these beaches and in these gated communities that we could never…