A certain classmate of our older spawn is a regular visitor in our home. He shares meals with us and often bunks here overnight. He drops by around 7:30am every schoolday, and then he and our spawn drive off "together" -- separate cars, nose-to-tail, as 17-year-olds will do.
About the time he was here this morning, an electrical fire was breaking out in the building where he lives. His mom was there when it happened, managing to escape with the family's dog moments before the blaze engulfed eight apartments -- including theirs.
They lost everything they own, save the cars they drive and the clothes on their backs.
We'll help them in whatever humble ways we can. Mrs. KintlaLake has gathered toiletries and a bag of our little-worn clothes, and tomorrow her parents will shop for stuff that actually fits. Our spawn's friend will join us here for dinner and will spend the night, a ritual he's welcome to repeat at least until he has a roof of his own again, longer if he wants.
Under the circumstances, no amount of kindness will make things easy for this young man and his mom. We'll simply do what friends do -- and that includes sharing their sadness.