I called my parents after work today just to thank them for my happy childhood.
I'm glad they raised me to be soft. They ate dinner with me, and took me to the library on the weekends, and helped out with my softball teams and dance classes. They asked me for my opinion. They always told me they loved me before saying goodbye. They still do. Sometimes we say it when we're just leaving the room.

And yes, we were really poor and there were fights. But it was nothing, nothing like what I think many of these kids go home to every day. I had consistency. I had people who had my back. I didn't need to be tough around them, and I certainly didn't need to be the adult. All I ever wanted to do was make them proud, and they never had to beat respect into me. And they're always proud anyway.

 And so many of my kids talk about wanting money one day, as if that's the marker for success. I guess for them it is. For my family, I was taught to work toward a career, one that would help me provide for myself so that I wouldn't have to deal with financial stress. It was never about the flashy stuff. And I want to share with my kids that money isn't the point, that it isn't what's going to truly pull them out of their situation even if they do happen to cash in. But I can't. It's patronizing and I know that.

So instead, I hop on the freeway and drive myself back to the nice life I've managed to build. And then I try to ease myself down from my ivory tower the best I can. I don't know anything.