I will never forget the afternoon the sidewalk rose up and swallowed me whole.

The late afternoon heat in Phoenix, Arizona, was merciless that day.

I kept telling myself to put one foot in front of the other.

My name is Katherine Morrison, and I was thirty-two years old with nothing left.

Everything I owned was in a worn tote bag slung over my shoulder.

My two-year-old twins, Henry and Clara, were holding on to the hem of my thin cotton dress.

Henry’s little fingers were sticky from the heat and his face was red and damp.

Clara had not stopped whimpering for nearly an hour.

We had been walking for miles because I had no money for the bus.

I had no home, no family to lean on, and no safe place to rest.

All I had left were my babies and the fierce will to keep moving for their sake.

But even the strongest will can break.

As we crossed the scorching pavement near a busy intersection, my vision began to spin.

The sun felt like a heavy hand pressing down on my shoulders.

I remember thinking that I just needed to rest for one minute.

Just one minute, and then I would get up and keep walking.

Then my knees buckled.

I collapsed onto the hard concrete in the middle of the sidewalk.

My bag slipped from my arm, and the little food I had spilled across the ground.

A bruised apple rolled into the gutter.

For a moment, I could not feel anything.

Then I heard Henry screaming.

He was tugging desperately at my arm, crying, ‘Mommy, wake up.’

Clara’s piercing sobs echoed into the air above me.

I tried to open my eyes, but the world was a blur of heat and light.

Strangers passed by me on both sides.

A woman in a blue dress slowed for a second and then hurried on.

A man in a business suit glanced at us and then checked his phone.

To them, I was invisible.

I was just another problem they did not want to see.

But my babies kept crying.

Henry’s little voice cracked as he begged someone, anyone, to help.

Clara sat down on the hot concrete and buried her face against my shoulder.

I could hear my own breath rattling in my chest.

I was so weak that I could not lift my hand to comfort them.

My body had simply given out after too many days of trying to survive on almost nothing.

The shelter had closed its doors that morning.

We had been told there was no more room for us.

So I had taken Henry and