I stay between the lines. The coloring sheet’s boundaries are faded, broken—yet firm. I grip the slender crayon, steady my hand. Slowly, carefully I add waxy color. Tree leaves are green, the trunk brown. The sun made yellow although orange is also acceptable. In the coloring sheet lives the code that I must follow. Even my make believe play adheres to the code. I beat my dolls, throw them across the room—one time breaking a window then blaming the accident on Kim. Few live happily ever after in my game of House. As I get older, I stay in the lines. Sometimes I take a black crayon and trace the lines making the boundaries bold, impossible to forget.

—excerpt from Smiling Is Not Resilience