My name is Marissa. I’m forty-nine years old, and last month I started working as a janitor at the same university where my son, Logan, is a sophomore.
I’ve been a single mother for most of his life. There were years when I worked two jobs. Some months, three. I cleaned offices at dawn, waited tables at night, and folded laundry after midnight just to make sure the lights stayed on and his tuition payments went through on time.
Every semester bill.
Every lab fee.
Every textbook that cost more than our grocery budget.
I carried it.
