Except this time, she wasn’t helping them.
She was standing in their place.
She never complained.
Even when she was exhausted, she smiled.
Even when her knees hurt, she got up to make breakfast.
Even when she struggled to climb the stairs, she insisted she was fine.
But I could see the changes.
Her hands had begun to shake.
She became tired more easily.
Sometimes she had to sit down halfway through doing something as simple as carrying laundry.
Walking to the mailbox left her breathing heavily.
I worried about her constantly.
And she worried about me.
We had become two people trying to protect each other from the same sadness.
## Returning to School
Going back to school after my parents died was harder than I expected.
Everyone knew.