I Turned the Last Page of the School Reading Book and Felt Weirdly Proud That We Had Survived One More Week

Dear Delyara, The reading book had travelled through tired evenings, rushed mornings, forgotten pages, one nearly-lost school bag, one child pretending not to be in the mood, and one mother trying to sound encouraging while secretly just wanting everyone in bed. And still we finished it. That felt like parenthood to me in a single object. Not heroic. Persistent. I signed the page, closed the book, and felt a little wave of pride that had nothing to do with literacy and everything to do with surviving the week in one piece while still finding enough softness to guide a child through something that mattered to them even when I was stretched thin myself. That is a form of victory too, though I don’t think many people would name it that way.