“Mom, Starting Next Month, We’ll Transfer All Your Money To My Account.” My Son Said That, And I Just Smiled. That Night, As Always, He Came With His Wife For A Free Dinner.

And then I would leave again at 9 at night to clean buildings until 2:00 in the morning. I slept 4 hours, and then I would start all over again. I did that for years.

For so many years, I lost count. I remember that Lawrence always wanted the brandame sneakers that the other kids at school wore. They cost $120.

I earned $1,200 a month from both jobs. $120 was almost all the money I had for food for two weeks, but I bought them for him because I didn’t want my son to feel less than anyone else, because I wanted him to know that his mother would do anything for him. I ate rice and beans for an entire month to be able to pay for those sneakers.

When Lawrence turned 18, he wanted to go to college, a private university that cost $15,000 a year. I didn’t have that money. I didn’t even have a tenth of that money.

But I went to the bank and took out a loan. I went into debt for four full years of education that I ended up paying off for 10 years after. 10 years of paying a loan so that my son could have a college degree.

He graduated. He got a good job. He was making $3,000 a month, double what I was making after 30 years of work.

And I was happy. I thought that he could finally build his life, that I had finally done my job as a mother well. But Lawrence didn’t leave my house right away.

He said he wanted to save money, that he wanted to have a solid foundation before living on his own. I told him, of course, that my house was his house, that he could stay as long as he needed. He stayed five more years.

5 years in which I was still working my two jobs. 5 years in which I paid the rent. I paid for the food.

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