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day of first grade felt like a fresh start. Junie marched up the sidewalk, pigtails swinging, and I waved, praying she’d make friends.

I spent the day cleaning, trying to scrub off my nerves.

The grief changed us.

“Relax, Phoebe,” I said out loud. “June-bug’s going to be just fine.”

That afternoon, I barely had time to set down the sponge before the front continue reading …