The building felt like an oversized preschool. Only, single moms with three kids apiece replaced classmates. Drama replaced fun. There was one TV. A cafeteria. A cot for a bed.
Any given night, Boobie Dixon shared this one-floor “bedroom” with 20 strangers. He’d often need to sleep with Mom.
For two different stints – once in seventh grade, again in eighth grade – Dixon lived in a homeless shelter.
The worst nights? When Mom cried. She’d seclude herself, the tears poured out, and Dixon was there to console.
“It’s going to be alright, Mama,” he told her.