That night, a wildfire devoured my house, my workplace, and just about everything I have ever owned. When the next day tried to show through the back smoke and raining ash, I had nothing left but the old, skimpy pajamas and flip flops I had run out of the house wearing. Not even a cell phone to my name.

I also bow to the parts of you that I don’t understand and the values I cannot fathom. I honor your struggle and your selfishness, because I have them, too. I honor your sacrifice and your victories, without casting blame or judgment. I bow to your sovereign right to make your own choices, even if I wouldn’t make the same ones. Maybe you’re right; maybe I’m right. Doesn’t matter. I still bow to you.

My heart exploded with so much love for my students and every person who has ever felt diminished. I pride myself on my body positivity, and yet even I had allowed a small-hearted person cause me to contract.

Out of the water, looking over the courtyard, I felt something strange rise up in me. “You are starting to look like her,” someone next to me said. I was unsure what that even meant, but it frightened me. “Oh, shit,” I said. Then it all went black. Silent.