I step into the crowded kindergarten room and close the door. I glance over at the snippy snappy little one sitting in the corner who is watching me as I enter; the same girl who questioned whether or not I was possibly, ‘God’ or maybe just ‘old’ back in the halcyon days of September.
She looks at me and says, ‘Mrs. Algarin, you again?’
I sigh and look at the ceiling. I respond, ‘Child, I am here to the bitter end’. My response sounds weary. I am weary.
‘Oh’ she answers. She also sounds tired.
I suspect she is severely disappointed.
690 Saint Paul 