Answering your questions

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I am sitting at my kitchen table, my computer spread out over a handmade banner that reads “We Love You, Springhill”, in preparation for the physically distanced parade of cars that will travel through our town today, celebrating the heroic efforts of our elementary school teachers. In sweet handwriting, my son has written “Thank You, Mrs. Quinn” in orange sharpie. I can see the dishwasher is open an inch, a passive-aggressive sign to my otherwise amazing husband that it needs to be emptied. The laundry machine hums permanently, a never-ending cycle of dirty things that need to be cleaned, folded,

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