The story that’s written on my heart

The story that’s written on my heart

Today, where mothers and families end up in life is about more than hard work and good fortune. The rules for a level playing field matter, too. That’s what I’m fighting for to honor my mother, on Mot
Warren for President

I’m thinking about my mother today.

I was just a kid when my daddy had a heart attack. It was serious — we weren’t sure if he was going to make it. He eventually got better, but he was out of work for a long time.

We lost our family station wagon. It looked like the house would be next to go. At night, I’d overhear my parents talk, and that’s when I learned words like “mortgage” and “foreclosure.”

I remember one morning, I was standing in my mother’s bedroom on a warm spring day. Her face was red and puffy, and about a dozen wadded-up tissues were on the bedspread next to a black dress. It was that one dress that every mom had — the one that only came out for weddings, funerals, and graduations.

And she was saying, “We will not lose this house. We will not lose this house.”

She was 50 years old. She had never worked outside the home. She was terrified.

I watched her while she pulled it together, put that dress on, put on her high heels, blew her nose, walked to Sears, and got a minimum wage job. And that minimum wage job saved our house, but more importantly, it saved our family.

That story is who I am. That story is written on my heart.
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