Awake at 3 a.m., two weeks before she graduates from high school
From the day they were born, you held them close. Gathered them in, dried their tears, snuggled them to sleep, watched them breathe. Everything was new, and everything was teaching. This is broccoli, you said, as their delighted toothless mouths tried to chew for the first time. That is a bird. Here is pink. This is soft, as you brushed their cheek with a finger. They wrapped their tiny fists around your index fingers and pulled themselves to standing in…
