Say their names and I see a snapshot from long ago. Their ages far exceed my my memories.
There are so many pops and cracks, you’d think I was a walking pile of rap music record albums.
“Who has seen me today? Did I talk to people like this? What is wrong with my face? Am I freakin’ melting?!”
The days of secret parent book-readers, class cupcake parties, and one teacher to remember for the year are over. She will never have them again. That chapter closed at the start of the summer.