On Christmas

to the front of the courtroom with a folded paper in my hand.

I had written it the night before.

Then rewritten it.

Then cried over it.

Then nearly torn it up.

In the end, I barely looked at it.

“My daughter Lily was eight years old when she learned that adults can smile at you in public and leave you to freeze in private,” I said.

My mother’s face tightened.continue reading …