the children cried out. “Tell us what happened to Buxbaum and Bixby and Bray!” I looked up, closed the book, and savored the smiling faces. Was Dr. Seuss preparing me for the importance of that night? Did he know when writing Oh, the Places You’ll Go! how open to interpretation his message would be, how it transcended ages and stages of one’s life? “Come on, kids,” Nurse Valerie said. “Time for bed. Say thank you to Miss Jessica.” “Thank you,” they mumbled in unison, but not before little Sabrina cried out, “One more.” She was seated on my lap, five-year-old legs hidden beneath two neon pink casts. I hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but reading to the children twice a week was one of my most enjoyable responsibilities. I liked the way they followed my every word, as if I were the most important person they had ever heard. Sabrina, having been in the hospital about a month, was one of my favorites.
