My name is Dana. I’m 62, and when some people thought I should be slowing down, I enrolled in college.
I had wanted to become a teacher since I was a teenager.
Back then, the dream felt simple. Obvious. Mine.
Then my father got sick the year I graduated high school, and the medical bills swallowed everything my family had saved.
College disappeared before it ever had a chance to begin.
I took a job in the school cafeteria to help my mother pay bills, promising myself it was only temporary.
But temporary has a strange way of becoming a lifetime.
I married Graham.