When you’re and only child in a family with an only parent, you look at other, bigger families with envy.
Mary Alice had a family with a station wagon, a split-level house, and a pool.
But then I looked up and saw Mary Alice’s toes, as she stood at the edged of the diving board.
Her second toe lay on top of her big toe on each foot. I had never seen such a thing.
I wondered if Mary Alice’s toes would ever prevent her from doing the things she wanted to do in life.
“Look, y’all!” she said, forming her perfect body into a perfect swan’s dive.
I decided then that any time I got frustrated with my overall situation in life, mad or jealous of knee socks or a pink canopy bed in a pink room, I’d take a deep breath and think about Mary Alice’s toes. At least I didn’t have Mary Alice’s toes.