you to feel forgotten.”
Mr. Walter bent down as much as he could and hugged him.
Then the older kids came.
Then parents.
Then adults who had once been children on his bus.
One after another, they showed him the cards he had written years earlier. His own shaky handwriting had been saved all that time by people who had never forgotten what it felt like to be remembered by an adult who did not have to care.
Over and over, in a broken voice, he kept saying the same
