Tumbleweed

Dear Goodie,

I returned from California safe and sound-- second degree sunburn excluded, my time with Kydee and Doctor was more amazing than I could have asked for.

I came home to a flurry of homework, but it wasn't too usually cruel. I managed to finally meet a Tumbleweed Youth Program representative. They're the people I've been trying to get in contact with for about a week now, the youth shelter/in-transition assistance/various programs for people like me organization. You would have loved to meet my, well, I don't think case-worker is the right word, but I suppose it's a good enough title for now.

I walked into the small complex of Phoenix office buildings to a sight I pretty much expected. Charity programs don't have fancy interiors, but they have linoleum floors and glassed-off secretary desks. I'm sure the two guys behind the desk, not much older than myself, were/are assisted by tumbleweed. Don't ask how, I'm a people-watcher and the idea seemed to fit.

I didn't know what to expect. I hadn't met Z.K, my "caseworker," in person before. I was 90% sure she was black. (Remember the summer I spent interviewing people over the phone? Speech says a lot about a person). I was looking forward to the woman who greeted me with, "Hey, what's up Momma?" when she returned my call.

So I wait in the lobby for Z.K. to come and get me, and in walks this curvy like a San Diego highway, nearly six foot in her heels, "I don't take no shit" black woman. We go back in her office, I tell the story all over again, or a good portion of it anyhow. She calls my school's financial aid office on the phone, gets the information I've spent the last several weeks asking for in all of seven minutes, turns to me and goes through the process step by step.

In Z.K.'s opinion, I've hit the ground running and I'm on my way. With her help, I'm nearly finished with the Independent paperwork. I've also talked to her about finding work, so she's helping me with that as well. I'm glad to have an advocate who has done this before, who knows the ins and outs.

What I'm struggling with now is just. Well. Writing the personal statement. It's supposed to be an in-depth description of my relationship with both of my parents. Specifically, what lead up to my ejection from the nest. That's a solid eight years of information to filter through-- all the way back to my parent's divorce. You were right when you said my situation, the conflict it resulted from, isn't something that happened over night.

Oh, hopefully there's a job on campus heading my way. Still sending out applications, though. Everything's in process.

Best Love and Wishes,
Sonya