We live just 18 miles outside of Boston in a very safe, quiet community filled with neighborhoods, farms, and open space. We have one elementary school, and the middle school and high school are in the same building. Most of the teachers, firemen, policemen, and town employees grew up here, and still live here serving their community, raising their own kids in the town they love. Up until recently we only had one stop light, and it isn't unusual to see a tractor at the gas station or driving down the road. Most people have jobs, most children have a parent (or two) that are present in their lives, most people have housing, most people have access to education and medical care, and most people do not wake up worried about where their next meal will come from. For every person that may have moved out, there is one or two that ventures back to a place that feels safe.
But it is not lost on me that just 18 miles from here, life is very different. Eighteen miles from here people worry about their physical safety, about securing housing, jobs, or about access to education and medical care. Eighteen miles from here families worry every day about where they will get their next meal, or whether today will be the day they lose their daycare, their job, or their housing. Eighteen miles from here violence is a normal part of life and is intertwined with a repeating cycle of broken families, absent parents, addiction, psychiatric illness, and crime. Eighteen miles from here "families" may include neighbors, friends, and community members that work together to make it work.
When I drop my son off at the town basketball courts for an afternoon of fun with his friends, my only worries are whether he has water and what time I should come back to pick him up. Eighteen miles from here kids walk down the street, go to the basketball courts or stop at the park, and their mother's worry whether today will be the day they will be shot, stabbed, or killed. I don't worry about my children having to join a gang for safety and protection, about my kids dropping out of school to help support their families, or to care for their younger siblings. I don't worry about my children not having access to education or healthcare, and I don't worry about my children being outside after dark, yet just 18 miles from here many mothers do.
I used to think that keeping my children away from these truths was protecting them, keeping them safe from the cruelty of the world, when in reality it was only contributing to these disparities. My children are blessed to live the life they do, but they should know how life outside of our safe community functions. They should know that just eighteen miles from here kids their same age are fighting battles that most of us will never know, or could never begin to understand. They should know that life isn't fair, and nothing is guaranteed. They should know that for some kids returning home to their families at night is a miracle in itself, and the lucky few who break the cycle and make a life better then the one they were born into is incredible. The should know that many times there are no second chances, do overs, or accommodations. That's not how life works.
I now choose to tell my children about life eighteen miles from here, not so they feel bad for the things they have been given, but so that they can be compassionate and find kindness for others. I choose to tell them so that a life different than the one they were born into is not just something they hear about in the music they listen to, see in movies, or watch on TV, but is in fact the real life of people close to our home. I choose to tell them about the consequence of poor decision making, circumstance, and chance, but also stress the importance of hard work, determination, and perseverance. My hope is that one day when they leave this town, and meet new friends, teammates, colleagues, and strangers they will not be quick to judge, they will not jump to conclusions, but rather meet these people with kindness. Eighteen miles from here life is different, but it is no less full of family, friends, love, community, and a sense of hope.
