When the Cumbia Stops

By Anthony Sanchez

The cumbia masked the fatigue and exhaustion my mom would face at the end of every day. Cumbia was a way for her to cope with the labor she had to endure. It made it easier to work throughout the day as it brought her jubilation. While I was soundly sleeping, she was setting up for the next day. My mom would ensure my dad was taking his medication, help me with my algebra homework and manage our finances through budgeting wherever she could. While my dad was the reason we had a home, my mom is the one who cared for and maintained it. My mom is the gear behind the machine that keeps our family running.

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Falling Through the Cracks

Anonymous

One night, while walking in the neighborhood, I was hit by a vehicle and my life was changed forever. Most of this time period is a blur- filled with sirens and beeps, dazed, and being wheeled in and out of surgeries. I had help from my partner, but soon after this event began our journey of navigating homelessness. Due to my injuries, I couldn’t walk or work. It took only one event to bring two working students to the streets, with most of our belongings shoved in the back of my SUV.…

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