In the “when life is unfair” letter, my father wrote:
Do not let unfairness make you cruel.
But do not let kindness make you careless either.
I read that line ten times.
Then I folded it carefully.
That became the center of everything after.
Not cruel.
Not careless.
That was the narrow bridge I tried to walk.
A week later, Elowen called me from the housing center.
Her voice was strange.
“Can you come by after class?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
“Elowen.”
“Really. Nothing bad. Just come.”
When I arrived, she was sitting outside on a bench with Wren.
Wren had two missing front teeth and a folder in her lap.
She looked proud enough to burst.
“I got a certificate,” she announced.
“For what?”
“Reading group.”
I gasped with appropriate drama.
Mr. Gideon had taught me that children deserved ceremony.
“You got a certificate? For reading? That is enormous.”
