Once indoors, their pasts resurfaced
LOS ANGELES - On a Friday afternoon in mid-September, Big Mama and Top Shelf stood in wonder and disbelief in the courtyard of the apartment building. They had finally arrived.
"Wow!" Big Mama exclaimed after finding her mailbox.
She took a deep breath, raised her arms and let them fall, her knees slightly buckling. Weeks spent waiting, years spent wondering slipped away.
"I'm speechless right now," she said, sobbing. She covered her face with a tissue and wept.
Hours earlier, the two women had gotten the phone call they had nearly given up on. Their case manager said they could move into their apartments. They were stunned and wasted little time.
Laughing and joking together, they hopped on a southbound bus. They couldn't get away from their tents fast enough. Ahead lay their new homes with hot water, bathrooms, kitchens full of appliances.
Big Mama, 51, had been living on that sidewalk for nine years. She and Top Shelf, 46, were friends and neighbors, looking out for each other on the street.
Both women had been told months earlier that Los Angeles city and county agencies were trying to clear out encampments in the neighborhoods around Broadway Place and Leimert Park. They thought they would be moving in June. Some of their neighbors had gotten their units in August.
But their housing subsidies were delayed by a building inspection. Now with the summer almost over, their time had come. At 2 p.m., Big Mama and Top Shelf met with property management and opened their "Welcome Home" packets. Keys in hand, they dabbed their eyes and danced.
In the courtyard, they gazed up at their new apartment building.
They went to Top Shelf's unit first. It was cool and dark. Steel
