I often see a well-dressed, energetic girl with red hair and freckles, usually the center of attention in her group of friends. It shocked me one morning to find her at my bus stop, sleeping with her head against a telephone pole, her arm over her backpack, and her shoes tucked under her legs.
In my neighborhood, a boundary exists between having a home and homelessness that is easy to miss. There are homeless kids falling through the cracks. How many more homeless kids are there that I don't know are homeless?
