Chapter 11 - The New Office
The basement closet where my mother used to keep her spare mops and broken brooms didn't exist anymore.
As part of the court-mandated facilities restructuring, Crestwood was forced to convert the old administrative annex on the ground floor—right next to the headmaster's suite—into the permanent Office of Facilities Management and Environmental Compliance.
It had a large bay window overlooking the maple trees, a gleaming oak desk with a modern desktop computer, and a brass nameplate screwed into the door that read: Lydia Moore, Director of Facilities and Safety Compliance.
On the corner of her new desk, right beside the stapler and the fresh box of legal pads, sat a small, framed photograph of a battered cardboard folder covered in faded marker hearts and crayon doodles.
"You don't need to keep that old thing here, Mom," I said, dropping my schoolbag onto the visitor’s chair after the final bell rang on a rainy Thursday afternoon.
"Yes, I do," my mother said, looking up from a blueprint of the new cafeteria drainage pipes with a soft, peaceful smile. "That folder is our anchor. It reminds us where we came from, and more importantly, it reminds everyone else in this building that nobody is ever too small to stand up for what is right."
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She reached across the desk, pulled me onto her lap just like she used to do in our tiny apartment on 4th Street, and kissed the top of my head.
"Besides," she whispered, "Mr. Abernathy called this morning. He says you have a standing invitation to intern at his legal aid office as soon as you turn ten."
