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dad. He reacted like my mom. Surprised, probably a little

confused even though he didn’t let me see that. He told me

that he loved me and that he was proud of me. That meant

everything to me. I told my brother the day after. We went for

a drink, and when I told him, he acted like he wasn’t surprised.

Like he might have always known. He also told me that he

loves me and that he’s proud of me. This has been the craziest

week of my life. The best week. Except for the fact that after

every single time I talked with them, I wanted to tell you all

about it. I wanted you to be there.”

I don’t know what to say, so I press my lips closed so

hard that they tingle.

“I have this one student in my class. He failed bio

twice. He’s taking the summer class so that he can take the

next bio course in the fall and not get so far behind. He wants

to be a nurse. I gave a test yesterday and I was so sure that

he’d do terribly because he didn’t really seem ready and his

assignments were all over the place. He actually did amazing.

Low nineties. He must have worked his butt off for it. It’s easy

to cheat on multiple choice, but his long answer questions

were spot on too. I was so proud. The first thing I wanted to do

after I was done grading that test was call you. I wanted to tell

you all about it.”

What can I say? That I feel bad? That I’ve felt the

exact same way? That every tiny little disappointment or

triumph makes me think of her? That every single moment of

every single day I’ve been thinking about her? That I want to

share my day with her too?

All of it seems wrong, so I choose to stay quiet. Not

brooding. Slightly overthinking. Mostly listening.