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.