She takes it all the way to top of the building, where harsh fluorescent lights expose chipped walls and ageing brown laminate floors. Two of the three elevators are chronically out-of-service, and the sole operating lift is often sullied with urine and feces. Too small for social distancing, the foyer is little more than a row of mailboxes on the left, and a couple of benches, now abandoned, on the right. A violent stairwell mugging prompted the housing provider to install a security system and replace a malfunctioning video camera, so she now uses a key FOB to enter the foyer. When Katrina approaches her mother’s building, she is greeted by bare-faced construction workers huddled together. These days, Katrina’s walk from her basement apartment on a residential street two short blocks from her mother’s public housing apartment is filled with a new complication.
These visitations are a part of a decade-long-journey toward reconciling their fractured relationship – an arrhythmic dance that began long before the pandemic. Since coronavirus, Katrina, a former foster care kid, visits her elderly birth mother twice per week to provide in-home support and ensure that she is social distancing. Please consider whitelisting our site in your settings, or pausing your adblocker while stopping by. We rely on advertising revenue to support the creative content on our site.
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