They know that I will read it. And yet they write about their lives, and their hopes and struggles

They are already gathering their stuff, perhaps only to throw them out as soon as I leave. I blink, and the window at the back, the one spilling sun, beckoning them outdoors, darkens. We are back in winter, writing together as the sun dips and disappears and we talk stories and change.

They are trusting, these girls, baring vulnerabilities, some in front of the group, some just on paper. They know that I will read it. And yet they write about their lives, and their hopes and struggles. I am touched and awed by their sharing, by their depth, by their richness of experience.

—Rivka Streicher

Last Day

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 743)