She was Ruby’s teacher. Mrs. Allen.
When I arrived, the classroom looked like a Pinterest board dedicated to parties. There were paper snowflakes, little gloves hanging from a clothesline, and gingerbread men with bulging eyes. That should have made me smile.
Instead, Ms. Allen’s expression indicated something was wrong.
It should have
make me smile.
It was my daughter’s drawing of four stick figures holding hands under a huge yellow star.
I recognized those who were labeled “Mom”, “Dad” and “Me”. But there was a fourth character.
She was taller than me with long brown hair.
Above her head, my daughter had written “MOLLY” in large letters.
“Ruby talks a lot about Molly. Your daughter mentioned it in stories, drawings, and even during singing time
I nodded.
Continued on the next page
