i got a call last night from my oldest daughter while i was lying on the couch in the most agonizing pain ive felt since i gave birth to libby.
"i think jamie needs help, mom," she said without much preamble. "he was talking just now about food stamps - he and cj are having celery and peanut butter for dinner."
i believe in raising children to be independent. i believe in raising children to make their own way in life, and to pay their own bills. but sometimes, when making one's own way and paying one's own bills is new, a child is still a child, no matter how old he is. i also don't believe in letting children starve if there's any other alternative.
and so, at 715, libby and i threw on some more or less presentable clothes (hers more, mine less), flew to the grocery store and then to my son's - about a forty-five minute drive to the other side of hartford. jamie took the stuff with tears in his eyes.
"i feel a lot better," said libby, on the way home.
"that jamie won't starve?" i asked, between clenched jaw and gritted teeth.
"no," she replied. "that now i know you'll never let me."
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.