Ode to the Warrior Mom

Yarrow Kraner essays

When I was two and a half, we moved to one of the scariest neighborhoods in Denver. One week after the move, my mom understood that she was in a no-win situation with a mentally unstable husband, so she told him she was going to the store, left with 25 cents in her pocket and me on her shoulders. We walked five blocks to a payphone to call the only person she knew in Denver.