They Laughed When Her Son Called Me “The Help” — By Morning, I Called In The House

drawing in crayon. Two stick figures — one tall with long hair, one short — standing in front of a blocky house with a large square roof. Above them, in careful mismatched letters:

SORRY I THREW THE FORK. YOU ARE NOT THE HELP. YOU ARE FAMILY.

I stood in my hallway for a long time holding a piece of paper that had crayon smudges on the corners and a slightly continue reading …