Once upon a time, I was 15 years old. I lived with my mother in a little white house with decorative wrought iron bars on the window and a big swing in the front yard. When she asked me to go on a drive with her I was not surprised because we often spent weekend afternoons aimlessly wandering until something fun or entertaining presented itself. On this day, however, she seemed to have a certain destination in mind. I said little in the car because I'm the kind of person who says nothing when I don't know what to say. Being in the car is such an intense and forced form of intimacy. So I probably just sang along to the radio while we travelled down the farm-to-market roads and city streets that my mom had memorized to avoid ever having to get on the highway. Finally, we pulled into a trailer park, or rather a "manufactured home community".

"Look at the trailer trash." Demanded my mother.
"Hmm." I said.
"Hello little trailer trash boy." Said my mom, through the closed window to a kid playing ball in the street. I may have laughed a little. I may have made a joke about being there to pick up her new boyfriend. I was 15, and I wanted to fit in. Even with my mother.
"I think I know that girl from school." I said, motioning to a girl to my left, who I probably did not really recognize.
"Well now you know that she lives in a trailer."

I didn't know why my mother was being like this. I always thought that she was so open minded and understanding. I thought that she had taught me how to empathize. Whereas other adults in my life would talk about people behind their backs, my mom would talk TO people. She never seemed put off, intimidated, or disgusted by anyone. I was an idealistic teenager and I had always assumed that she was right there with me. I was getting upset (I had never been angry at this point in my life). When we had completed the circle of the streets through the community and turned out I meekly said, "These people aren't trailer trash. They're just people who happened to live in trailers."

She turned to me with an emotion that I did not fully understand, "That's what I wanted to hear you say. That's why we're here. I'm proud of you. Lets go get a hamburger."

We went and got some food and didn't really talk about the little field trip. I didn't understand it. Its strange to think about how back then she even had any question in her mind that I would have some prejudice against people who lived in trailers, but I probably did. A suburban housing development can be a very isolating thing. All of the houses around you are so much like yours that you forget that not everyone in the world lives in a little white house with wrought iron window bars.

Mom must have realized how much of the world I was missing out on. Thank God I had her.