When she started high school, I'd get up with her in the morning to make her a sandwich for lunch, and we'd silently drink a cup of tea together before the 6：40 bus came.
A couple of times during her senior year I went into her room at night, the light off, but before she went to sleep. I'd sit on the edge of her bed, and she'd tell me about problems:a teacher who lowered her grade because she was too shy to talk in class, a boy who teased her, a friend who had started smoking. Her voice, coming out of the darkness, was young and questioning.