By high school the question box was
wilted and faded. Darci still had
questions, but she saved most of
them for her diary. We were blessed
to get more chat from her than most
parents with their kids, but I actually
missed those pre school days.
"Why are people so
mean? I don't get it. I
never would've said the
mean things to Jen she
said to me."
One day the box was gone, moved to
her closet. She proudly replaced the
area with her prom picture.
"Am I pretty? I don't
think I am. "
The night before graduation Darci
was at the kitchen table with the
question box. I could tell she'd been
crying but I waited for her to share.
She was opening up questions from
years gone by.
"You and dad always