Being a human book
A middle-aged blond woman approaches me.
She introduces herself as Margaret, shakes my hand, and sits on a chair across from mine.
I’m a midwife and deal a lot with Aboriginal families up north, she says. She noticed families from up north are tight and supportive, especially with extended family.
I wish we had that down here, she says, instead of every family unit fending for themselves.
Then she unloaded the first question: “What other things do they have up north that you wish we could have down here?”






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