Immigration enforcement and public service systems such as education, health care, and disability support often function independently, but in the lives of many families, they overlap in complex ways.
Some experiences are recognized only after behavior changes. The first indications appear as small, sensible adjustments made to keep daily demands manageable.
The security line advances beneath fluorescent lights. Everything is arranged for flow. People move forward, belongings slide along belts, and decisions are made quickly to keep the system in motion.
A house can be quiet without feeling peaceful. Chairs remain exactly where they were last placed. Doors close completely. Nothing seems out of place. Brick without Cover begins with nothing visibly amiss.
Time does not move evenly. Some years leave only a trace, while others settle into the objects that are handled again and again. Holiday decorations are among them, brought out, arranged, lived with, then taken down and packed away, growing more delicate and more marked by time.
Most days begin around seven. The extra time is necessary for putting on shoes, having coffee, and settling into the morning at a pace that feels workable.
Sometimes an ordinary task is interrupted in an instant: a part breaks, a movement misfires, or support that was reliable a moment ago suddenly isn’t.
A remembrance of Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project, and her work in disability rights and inclusion.
Some moments are personal. Others belong to something larger—a shared struggle, a long effort carried quietly by many. This poem honors those whose work often goes unseen, yet whose presence shapes what continues.
I sat at a table in a dressy black dress, the kind you wear when the evening calls for something more formal. We had just finished a meal, and the room had settled into that familiar quiet that follows shared conversation.
