At my father’s retirement dinner, my parents seated my husband

There was no counter. My chest just did the thing it does, and I let it, and I watched the fogged-up streetlights go by smeared and gold through the window, and I thought about Monday morning.

Twenty-two third-graders. Half of them couldn’t read in September.

By June they would.

That was the deal. That had always been the deal. Nobody had ever needed continue reading …