I invited Literacy to the table. She was delightful as can B. We drank T.
She seemed shy at first, as if she was trying to decode each word—sounding out her thoughts. Once she started, she began speaking rapidly, as if I were timing her. “Listen,” I said. “This is not a race. It isn’t about accuracy, and your pronunciation is just fine. I invited you because I want to know U. I want to C U. I want to understand. ¿Comprende? This is all about communication.” Literacy took a big deep breath . . . and started to cry. “U C,” she said, “Sometimes people get all phocused on phonics—It’s like they’re hooked. Yes, foundation, foundation, phoundation, but it doesn’t stop there. We need to play with words, slay with words, sing and be sung. U know?” And I did. So we did. We sang. And we shared stories—hers, mines, ours. We laughed, then cried some more, then sang a song of hope. “C, this is Y,” she said, “This is Y I live. This makes me feel whole.” We drank more T, made lists, recited poems, made declarations, asked questions, wrote our dreams, and shared our resilience through story. Y’all, Literacy is a beauty, and she is invited to my table any time!