The Girl Who Used to Love School
I’m 36. Married. Stable life. Safe neighborhood. A house with creaky wooden floors and a driveway that never feels quite wide enough.
For years, I thought I had everything figured out.
Then Lily started school.
Lily was six.
She was the kind of child who made other parents smile without meaning to.
Always talking.
Always sharing.
Always dancing to little songs she invented on the spot.
When she started first grade that September, she walked through those doors like it was the grand opening of her own empire.
Her backpack looked enormous on her tiny frame, the straps bouncing with every step.
