In second grade I got my first pair of glasses. I thought maybe I had to keep them out of the rain, they were that precious to me. I thought maybe I could count the leaves on every single tree from clear across the other end of our yard. Sharp sharp clear. I have not had that clear new vision since.

Here's what. Thursdays were library days, I always needed an extra bag. The library lady knew us all by name, the Mom with five kids and fifty books each visit. Sundays were for toast and butter, books and milk. Do you know we used to use maybe 3 or 4 loaves of bread on Sunday mornings. When you are reading, bread and butter slides down like nothing. Milk is cold and thick with sunlight and books are books are books.

Dad cutting my hair says If you brush your hair with your other hand while you reading, I would not have to work out these tangles all the time and then the dentist says If you'd brush your teeth with your spare hand all the time when you read, you would not have to come here so often. Silly Silly Silly. If I use one hand for my teeth and one hand for my hair, I will not be able to read. So I ignored them both and kept drinking in words. I wish I were still thirsty like that.

In the morning I watched the sky light up, cold bottom imprinted on a heat register. Dark to grey to white. I thought I could not sleep but really I was impatient, waking myself up. Here is Today! Here is Morning! Hello Hello Hello Here I Am!