The day after Christmas, my mother found that the classroom of her highly respected early education program —Almost Home Childcare—had collapsed, just four days after a roofing job was completed. The new work had already begun to fail, showing clear signs of improper materials and techniques, and despite my mother’s repeated requests for a safety inspection, the contractor dismissed her concerns. The roof gave way in the middle of the night. This wasn’t just a worksite; it was the home where she has lived and worked for forty-five years, caring for generations of children and their families, while raising her own six children. The licensed roofers now deny any responsibility.

The collapse didn’t just destroy the sunroom roof of the playroom. It crushed the environment my mother had built over decades: a play-based program filled with handcrafted wooden toys, rare children’s books, out-of-print educational art books, art supplies, large activity tables, unique wooden chairs, and countless other items loved by generations of children. The force of the collapse tore out gas lines, exposed electrical wiring, and left half of the house open to the elements. Recent rainstorms then drove water and debris through the rest of the home, damaging the remaining roof, windows, laminate floors, and interior spaces. The after-school building and community art center next door—roofed by the same contractor—has now also lost structural integrity, and its roof must be removed and rebuilt.

My mother has spent more than four decades building a place where play and creativity weren’t concepts but the daily fabric of a child’s life. She never treated Almost Home as a business to grow or franchise; she treated it as a second home for the families who passed through, putting whatever she earned back into the space. Children learned to sew, cook, dance, feed chickens, ride bikes, make mosiacs… the list goes on and on! The mix of free play and hands-on learning was designed to help each child grow into a confident, imaginative, and unique self.

Many—now adults—describe their time there as the best years of their childhood. To wake up after Christmas and see that world, her life’s work, nearly destroyed in a single moment has been devastating.

We’re asking for help to rebuild. Any amount will go toward legal costs, clearing the damaged structure, replacing materials, repairing what can be saved, and supporting the teachers who suddenly find themselves without a workspace.

For decades Almost Home Childcare has supported its community. Now, in a moment of profound loss, we are asking the community to help it stay afloat as we try to rebuild and move forward.