Monday, June 1, 2015. My child and I hold hands on the way to school,. And when I leave him at the first-grade door. He cries a little but is brave; he does. My selfish tears remind me how. I cried before that door a life ago. I may have had a hard time letting go. Each fall the children must endure together. Learning the alphabet, the integers,. Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff. Dear Ann from Asia,.

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