Bored. Sitting at the kitchen table, I stared out of the dingy window. Just as I took a sip of my scalding coffee, I heard the bus chugging up the hill when I saw Miss Rogers scooting her 3 grandchildren out the front door. As they all dashed to the bus stop, I wondered how she did it all. Raising those little ones; working at the nursing home all those hours. Worrying, no doubt, about her daughte...