At my twin sister’s graduation, my father lifted his camera for her name—then the dean said

exactly.

It was something closer to grief.

Because I knew, once I said it, there would be no going back to silence.

I glanced down at my notes.

The version of the speech that would protect them was still there.

Carefully written.

Polished.

Grateful, but vague.

It would be easy to read.

Easy to finish.

Easy to leave this stage with applause and no consequences.continue reading …