1.Emma
Ihad a system for surviving days like this. Smile. Breathe. Don't look at the mountains.
The scent of construction paper and Elmer's glue usually smelled like possibility. Today, it smelled like a minefield.
"Ms. Reed! You remembered the sparkly glue!" Madison Peters skipped past me, her blonde pigtails bouncing.
"I told you I would, Maddie." I caught her mother’s eye, Linda, as she followed with a tray of Rice Krispies treats. "Sparkly glue is essential for Mother's Day. It's practically a law."
Linda laughed, shifting the tray to one hip. "You're a saint, Emma. I barely remembered to brush my hair this morning."
"Your hair looks great. And those treats look dangerous." I gave her arm a warm squeeze. "Thank you for bringing them."
"It's the least I could do." Her gaze swept across my classroom, tables were pushed together under cheap plastic tablecloths, bowls of pre-cut paper hearts and pipe cleaners at intervals, the hand-colored banner reading‘We Love Moms!’stretched above the whiteboard. "You've done all the hard work."
The room filled quickly. Pine Ridge Elementary was a charming single-story building with wide windows that looked out onto the playground and, beyond that, the dense evergreenslopes that gave the town its name. The mountains were always there. I'd learned not to look at them directly.
"Oliver, the safety scissors are for paper, not your hair," I said, gently prying bright green plastic from curious fingers.
His mother, Jenna, shot me a look of exhausted gratitude. "I swear, this child has a death wish."
"He's creative. We're channeling it." I handed Oliver a stack of construction paper. "Show me what you've got, buddy. I want to see something spectacular."
"Ms. Reed, look!" Isabella tugged my sleeve, pointing proudly at her pink headband. "My mom and I match!"
"You're twins! I love it." I bent down to her level. "Did you plan that, or is it twin telepathy?"
"Telepathy," Isabella said seriously. "Mom says we have it."
Her mother rolled her eyes behind her, mouthing, “she insisted,”and I bit back a laugh.
This was the part I was good at. The warmth, the patience, the small negotiations of childhood. Tommy needed help tying his apron. Chloe wanted to know if she could useallthe purple sequins.
"All of them?" I raised an eyebrow.
"It's for my mom," Chloe said, as if this explained everything.
"Yes, Chloe. But remember what we learned about sharing.” I said, giving the child a knowing look. “Save some for Sofia, okay? Her mom likes purple too."
"Fine," Chloe sighed, with the wounded dignity of a tiny monarch forced to share her treasury.
I moved through the cheerful chaos, a conductor keeping everything humming along. The children's uncomplicated affection was a lifeline. Their hugs, their endless questions, and their absolute certainty that I could fix anything. In these small moments, the hollow space inside me didn't feel quite so vast.
My gaze drifted to the one quiet desk by the window. Sarah Brennan's desk. It was neat, her pencil box perfectly aligned with the edge. She was one of my sweetest students, had thoughtful brown eyes, and a quiet demeanor that sometimes tipped into sadness. Her‘All About Me’poster at the beginning of the year had featured a drawing of herself, a tall stick-figure man, and a buzzing bee. Under ‘Family,’ she'd written:
Uncle C. and my bees
No mother. I'd noted it, filed it away with the gentle caution I reserved for children carrying invisible weight.
"Emma?" Jenna appeared at my elbow. "Do you have extra googly eyes? Oliver has already lost three."
"Bottom drawer of my desk. Help yourself."
She squeezed my arm. "You're a lifesaver. Seriously."
I watched her cross to my desk, her hand brushing past the framed photo there; it was the only personal item I allowed myself in this room. Even a small glance made me reminisce about a sweet past that turned sour.
It was of Lily and me. Arms thrown around each other on a crowded city street, laughing at something I couldn't remember anymore. Her dark hair was a wild cloud around her face. Her smile could have powered a city block. We looked invincible.
