When Housing Connect called this spring, I couldn’t believe it. After nearly two years of moving around and seeking stability, I was offered an apartment at The Eliza, a new affordable housing complex in Inwood, Manhattan. I experienced a wave of relief.
In April, I moved into my one-bedroom apartment with my two teenage granddaughters. We’ve been through so much together — family losses, temporary living situations, and too many moves to count. But now, this Thanksgiving, I can finally say something I’ve waited a long time to say: We’re home.
Home is more than a roof over your head; it’s a space to care for others. That value is very personal to me because I have dedicated my life to caregiving and service for children, both in schools and in my home.
For more than 20 years, I was a paraprofessional in New York City public schools, most recently in District 75, working one-on-one with students who had significant medical and developmental needs. I supported children in wheelchairs, on medication, and with behavioral challenges. I woke up for work every day motivated to help them grow into the best person they could be.
But when the school bell rang, my work didn’t end. I spent afternoons running after-school programs, evenings helping in group homes, and weekends tutoring. I built programs that gave students a safe place to be, especially between class time and dinner time — that’s the most dangerous part of the day for children, when trouble is most likely to find them. At one point, I was working from sunrise to midnight. But I didn’t mind, because I couldn’t accept the reality of these kids hanging out on the street.
Eventually, I saw that even this around-the-clock work still wasn’t enough. I witnessed too many children lacking what every child deserves: a home-cooked meal, clean clothes, and someone to ask how their day was. I couldn’t stand to see a child not fed, or without their hair done, or a quiet room to sleep. That’s when I decided to become a foster mom.
For eighteen years, I opened my home as a haven for dozens of children. I raised three brothers, cared for teenagers who later became my permanent family, and helped countless young people transition into adulthood. One of them even visits me at The Eliza; neither of us ever envisioned we’d be in the same building again. Life is funny that way.
Last year, with all my children grown, I retired. I wanted to slow down to focus on my health, journal, read, and spend time with my granddaughters. But finding stable housing in New York was difficult, especially for a retiree. I was moving from place to place, searching for the same stability I always wanted for my kids. Then, The Eliza opened its doors.
The Eliza isn’t just an apartment building. It’s a vision for what housing can be when nonprofits, philanthropists, and the city unite behind a common vision. Built by The Children’s Village and partners in the public and private sectors, it’s part of a broader mission to create high-quality, affordable homes in diverse neighborhoods, and with housing set aside for youth exiting foster care. As an educator and a foster mom, I spent my life helping young people find family, stability, and opportunity. Now, The Eliza is doing the same for me.
Everything here is designed with care, from the accessibility features, like lower counters, to the shared spaces where neighbors meet. I love the fitness room, the on-site laundry, the study lounge where my granddaughters do homework, and the rooftop deck with its view of the neighborhood. Plus, we can head downstairs to the library and access nearby grocery stores and mass transit. We finally have a place that truly works for us.
The Eliza stands for the same values that shaped my life: care, community, and giving people a fair chance. For years, I saw what instability could do to a child, how it slowly erodes their confidence and hope. This housing gives families, seniors, and young people the security they need to grow, plan, and dream. It shows that we can build neighborhoods where everyone belongs — and everyone has the chance to do better.
This Thanksgiving, as my granddaughters and I prepare our dishes, set our table, and gather around for our meal, I’ll look around at our new home, a place that, at long last, lets us rest, rebuild, and give back in our own way. Because for me, giving back has always been about home.
Marsha Thomas is a longtime New York City public schools paraprofessional and foster mother who lives with her granddaughters in Inwood.
