[Denise M. Baran–Unland - email@example.com]
It was the late 1998 and I was a new single mom of six children. My next door neighbor, who has since died from lung cancer, was also a single mom of two children.
We decided to walk with the kids from our homes in Marycrest subdivision all the way down Jefferson Street to the home of another friend, who then joined us with her kids for the rest of the walk.
We arrived early, before dark, and of course we had to walk the rest of the way back. I was working several different jobs at the time and was so tired I can scarcely find the right words to describe the fatigue.
But as I sat there surrounded with the kids and watching the lights in the sky, I felt rested and I felt hope that life would, somehow, work out.
And it did.