“Maybe if you quit wasting our grocery money on strangers, we wouldn’t have to live like beggars,” I sneered.

Mom slapped her open palm down on the laminate counter so hard the dishes rattled inside the cupboards.

“Don’t you ever say those words in this house again,” she shouted, tears filling her eyes.

“You have no idea what that poor man gave up for the people he loved.”

“What did he give up, Mom?” I shot back, refusing to give an inch.

“Did he give something up for you?”