She will be class valedictorian at a D.C. high school graduation. She won a full-ride scholarship to Georgetown University. Her graduation speech will thank all of the teachers who invested in her mind, cared for her heart and encouraged her dreams. She loves herself and takes pride in what she has achieved in just 18 years of life.
And she’s homeless.
I wonder what kind of graduation party they throw in a shelter?
Will they drape a banner trimmed in school colors across the front entry, grabbing the eyes, attention and envy of her proud mother’s neighbors and friends? Will tables bulge with grilled burgers and dogs, summer corn, baked beans and a Kroger-decorated sheetcake? No doubt paper plates will serve as tableware, but I’m wondering about the balloons, streamers and bright flower pots like most of us remember.
It probably doesn’t matter to Rashema Melson. She’s a grounded, dedicated young woman who perfected the art of studying with headphones to avoid the constant distractions of shelter life. Believe me, as someone who oversaw a family shelter, these are not quiet places ripe for introspection. Imagine the discipline it took for a teen to apply herself day after day while people hurt, cry, yell and sometimes lose self-control.
I loved this article in the Washington Post. Not for what it said, but for what it left unknown.
The writer could have ripped us to shreds, hearing first-hand the sacrifices and burdens that could easily have overpowered this child’s promise, dulled her dreams and turned her into another poverty statistic.
We don’t need those details. This young woman’s art of understatement proved far more telling. She just left us with one closing thought:
What does Rashema want most in the world now?
She wants to fall in love.
Thanks. I just did.
