Each person dyingfloats aside. Making room forthe one that's coming. Perhaps they meet ontheir journey. Perhaps they waveas each heads on home

When there are many worldsyou can choose the oneyou walk into each day.

The first time I write my full name Jacqueline Amanda Woodsonwithout anybody' helpon a clean white page in my composition notebook, I knowIf I wanted toI could write anythingLetters becoming words, words gathering meaning, becomingthoughts outside my headbecoming sentenceswritten by Jacqueline Amanda Woodson

I am in love with everything around me,the dotted white lines movingacross my teacher's blackboard, the smell of chalk, the flag jutting out from the wall and slowly swaying above. There is nothing more beautiful that P.S. 106. Nothing more perfect than my first-grade classroom. No one more kind than Ms. Feilder, who meets me at the door each morning,takes my hand from my sister's, smiles down and says, Now that Jacqueline is here, the day can begin. And I believe her.Yes, I truly believe her.