50/365

I never said
I was the expert.
One foot in front 
of the other.
My mother taught me
how to write my name
every time we went to the grocery store. 
The cashier looked at her
and then looked at me 
and would say
“you have your mother’s eyes” 
which is a weird thing to say to a child. 

When I could not sleep, I would walk into my parents’ room and tell my mother, which is a creepy thing for a child to do, and she would respond as if I never startled her, as if she was waiting for me, 

“read, child, read.”

[image: Diana Scherer]