I had an apartment. I had a son. He was born at 7½ months and sickly. I checked in to the hospital with him and never left his side. My son passed away five days before his birthday. That was a double dose.  For anybody who has ever lost a child, they mourn the birthday and they mourn the death. I lost my apartment, but I didn’t really care.  I kind of checked out.

In the shelter there was no kitchen, only a microwave.  It’s a lot of TV dinners, processed things, which is not good for me because I’m a diabetic. I bought cold cuts, cereals, milk, peanut butter, jelly, but how can you live off that?

I came to Praxis to get out of the shelter.  It could have been a cardboard box in the park, as long as it wasn’t the shelter. But I love this building. I’m in awe of my apartment.  My husband John is here with me.  I got a lease.  I got keys.  I can do things.  If I go to Virginia to see my brother and sister that lives there, I don’t have to worry.

I like the staff, period.  They keep the building clean. You’ve got any concerns, that door is always open, you can talk to any one of them.

I don’t think about the future.  I haven’t been here a year.  I love my apartment.  My doctor is down the hill.  I’m adjusted to it, I’m used to the area, the supermarkets.  I made a little routine out of it.