By: Laura K.
DRIVE LIKE YOUR KIDS LIVE HERE, said the sign. Well, why not?
…If my kids live here, presumably I do, too. OK, so I’ve got quite a lot of money!
My ‘09 Corolla becomes a late-model Audi. I turn down Halsey, switch to NPR. I glide smoothly down the road, feeling great.
Then I start to worry. Is the landscaper cheating us? Is Jack cheating on me? Can Harper actually get into Yale? And all this privilege, when so many suffer….
I speed up, agitated; blow through a stop sign.
That was bad advice, sign. I don’t even have kids.