Sometimes I want to ask my daughter, Are you okay? Am I getting this right? The answer came not long ago when she walked into my study, perplexed by an English assignment. She was tasked with writing an essay about a personal challenge she’d had to overcome herself, a time when the adults in her life were unavailable and she’d had to handle matters on her own. “I don’t get this,” she said, apparently mystified at the thought of parents who were absent or unsupportive. I thought of all those moments my parents were absent, and I blinked back tears. “Mom, what would you write if you were me?”
