The new phrase is unhoused. Homeless is out. I didn’t have to look it up. Having volunteered at a day shelter for the last nine years, I already knew the answer.
I did so anyway, because my sweet friends keep trying to convince me that we are not, in fact, either homeless or unhoused. They resist the label because they love me, and because being homeless, or unhoused, is an unpleasant, socially awkward situation; it is vulnerable and unstable and none of the things you want for a friend.
Except that we are. Unhoused. Our belongings are packed in a garage in central Virginia, and I no longer have employment. The question of where my daughter and I will lay