When I was in the fourth grade, we were living in Southern Pines, North Carolina. My mother was working for Social Services and my sisters would have been about 4 and 2 years old.

One of my weekly chores was to clean the bathroom.

One day I came home from school and there was black mud around the edge of the tub. I was a latchkey kid. So, I had to wait little while for my mom to get home and, when she did, I took her to the bathroom to show it to her and tell her I had cleaned the bathroom and it was not my fault it was so dirty.

She said, “That’s my fault. I had to take some children to a foster family and they were so dirty, I just couldn’t take them to their new home like that. I’ll clean the bathroom. You don’t have to do it again.”

I said, “OK. I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t do it.”

She added, “I gave them some of yours clothes, too. And some of your sisters’. I’ll replace them. The clothes they were wearing were filthy and I didn’t want to put them back in those nasty clothes after I got them clean. I hope I didn’t give away something that any of you will miss. I don’t think I did.”

She looked so sad for those children as she told me a little bit about them. I think there were 2 girls and a boy, who was the youngest. They were all younger than me so having clothes that fit them between all the sizes of the 3 of us was pretty easy.

I asked about her putting the boy in girl clothes and she said that he was so young that the difference between girl clothes and boy clothes was just who was wearing them.

I think that’s why I remember the incident. It was very much not our usual life. And I think it may have been the first time I realized she was a person outside of our family.